


Fifty cents for your soul

by Zara_Zee



Series: Fifty cents 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Orientation Discovery, Prostitution, References to Addiction, References to Child Abuse, References to Drugs, References to Homophobia, References to prior underage, Religious discussion and debate, SPN_J2 Big Bang 2013, Smoking, Swearing, Violence, references to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isolated on a secluded property in the Hollywood Hills, Jared and his adopted siblings were raised by a strict nanny and tutors, on the instruction of their often-absent wealthy, religious parents.  Jared spent his childhood running away to play in the vineyards and wide open fields of the monastery-cum-seminary school next door, and to Jared, entering the seminary school at eighteen seemed like the perfect way to escape his stifling home.  But Father Michael believes Jared needs to live a little before he’ll be ready to take his final vows, so he sends him to work in West Hollywood for a year, at a drop-in and outreach center run by former priest Jeff Morgan. There, Jared meets Jensen, a twenty-year-old hooker who’s been working the streets since he was kicked out of home five years ago. The two become fast friends and Jared soon finds himself questioning everything he always thought to be true about himself.</p>
<p>Title is from a quote by Marilyn Monroe: “Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

# Prologue

Jared spread his arms wide, like Jesus on the cross, and spun around and around, singing (badly) at the top of his voice.

He loved it out here. The grass was so very green, his view of the sky was unimpeded, and the trees which surrounded the clearing made him feel as if he were standing on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, instead of on a large private property in the middle of the Hollywood Hills. The property was owned by a Jesuit order and was both a seminary college and a monastic spiritual retreat.

Jared spun around one final time before falling dizzily to the ground. He lay dreamily on his back staring up at the sky, watching birds flying around and listening to the distant barking of dogs. The sky was just starting to turn a faint orange color as the sun began to set and Jared tucked his arms behind his head and watched the beauty of the changing colors with awe. In the distance a bell chimed and Jared’s face changed abruptly. He scrambled to his feet and took off at a flat run. He reached the fence that separated the monastery-proper from the rest of the property and scrambled over it, tearing his pants in the process. He launched himself rapidly through the cloisters and then came to a sudden stop when he realized that he’d just run past Brother Matthew, Brother John and Brother Paul, and consequently, all need for haste was over. His shoulders slumped, Jared turned hesitantly to face the Brothers, his eyes as big and wide as those of a puppy that knew it was in trouble.

“Brother Samuel,” said Paul, using Jared’s assigned spiritual name. “Perhaps you can explain where you have been. And why you are not in vespers.”

“Yes. Right,” Jared nodded vigorously and smiled, “you see…it was such a nice day and…well…I know I was supposed to be scrubbing floors but…the outdoors was calling to me and I just had to go and…” Jared could tell, from the looks on the faces of the senior brethren, that he was only digging himself a deeper hole with his explanation. “And I lost track of time,” he trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

The Brothers regarded him with disapproval and Jared sighed. Any minute now he was going to get another one of Brother Paul’s ‘in my day you would’ve been whipped for your behavior’ lectures. Jared could see him winding himself up for it.

“Brother Samuel,” said Brother John, reaching out and putting a hand on Jared’s arm. “Father Michael wants to see you.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Jared. “After vespers?”

“No Samuel. Now.”

-X-

“Why?” Jared said, his eyes pleading. “I don’t want to leave.”

Father Michael smiled. He walked around his desk and gestured for Jared to get up. He took him to stand in front of the full length mirror that he used when putting on his cassock for services.

“What do you see, Brother Samuel?” he asked.

Jared regarded his reflection and saw a 6ft4 kid with floppy hair, big hazel eyes, torn black pants and a dirty, rumpled, un-tucked shirt.

His shoulders slumped.

“Right. I’m the last person anyone would trust as their priest.”

Michael huffed.

“That wasn’t my point. You’re trustworthy to a fault.  But you’re still a kid. You haven’t lived enough yet to know if this is the right vocation for you.”

Jared’s eyes were pleading again.

“It is Father, I know it is.”

Father Michael sighed.

“You are more exuberant, more full-of-life, than anyone I have ever met. I worry that this is not the right place for you.”

Jared met the priest’s eyes in the mirror and was surprised by the sadness he saw in them.

“Do you remember how I found you?” Jared laughed suddenly. “Brother Paul chased me off the property so many times when I was a kid, you must remember that?”

“You always seemed so very sad,” Father Michael recalled.

“Everyone always thinks that rich people don’t have any problems,” Jared said softly. “You’re not supposed to complain,” he shook his head. “Whenever it got… too bad, I’d climb the fence from our place onto this property. It was always so peaceful here. I didn’t have to worry about…” he sighed.

 The priest put a hand to the younger man’s arm and guided him back to the visitor’s chair.

“That’s exactly my point,” he said. “I’m concerned that you’re just using us to hide. Jared, you need to go out and live.”

Jared looked up at the use of his real name.

“So you’re kicking me out?’

Father Michael shook his head.

“No. I’m sending you out on assignment. A friend of mine runs an outreach program in West Hollywood. I want you to work with him for a year. If you still feel the same way once you’ve finished your assignment, I’ll allow you to come back here and take your vows.”


	2. Chapter One

#  **Chapter One**

A fist pounded on the bathroom door and Jensen nearly poked himself in the eye with his eyeliner.

“Move your ass, Jay. We gotta go!”

“Fuck you, Chris!” Jensen leaned closer to the bathroom cabinet’s rusted broken mirror and swiped at the stripe of black underneath his eye, smoothing the jagged edge into a sensual kohl smudge. Eyeliner made his eyes look even greener than they were, giving him an exotic, sultry appearance and making him look sexy as hell; if he did say so himself. Which he did. Frequently. Jensen pursed his lips, pulling his face into an over-the-top Blue Steel expression, before laughing softly.

“If Texas could see me now,” he murmured, scooping a handful of No-name gel out of a clear plastic tub and spiking up his short, mousy-brown hair.

Chris hammered on the door again and Jensen sighed.

“Alright, already!” He washed his hands and packed all his crap away, then yanked the bathroom door open and glared at his roommate-cum-best friend.  

Chris was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, wearing tight tan-colored jeans, a white, blue and tan checkered cotton shirt—open so that it showed off his chest, a white cowboy hat and tan boots.

“What’s the rush, asshole?” Jensen said.

Chris wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I wanna swing by Ricky’s on the way.”

Jensen’s mood darkened instantly. “Why?”

“I got a date with that cowboy fetish guy later.”

Jensen’s expression cleared. “The one who’s hung like a horse and likes you to ride his dick wearing the hat and the boots?”

Chris groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. And there ain’t enough lube in the world to make that monster fit without a fuckton of pain. But he’s an okay guy and he pays well. So.” He shrugged, and then looked Jensen directly in the eye. “I ain’t gonna get addicted again, I promise, Jay. Just need a little somethin’ to take the edge off.”

Jensen nodded. “And you want me to come with.”

Chris’s eyes slid away again. “Would you?”

Jensen ran a hand over the back of his neck. “This is a big fuckin’ favor you’re askin’, man.”

“I know.”

Jensen narrowed his eyes and stared intently at the older man.

When Jensen had first arrived in Hollywood, Chris had taken him under his wing.  Fresh off the bus from Texas, Jensen had been a clean-cut, baby-faced fifteen-year-old, ripe for exploitation and smart enough to know it. He’d realized, even then, that Chris’s motives hadn’t been completely altruistic, but Jensen was a survivor and he knew how to adapt. Chris had protected Jensen, had educated him in the rules of street-life, had shown him the ropes—the tricks of the trade—and in return he’d expected a cut of all Jensen’s earnings.

At first, Jensen had idolized the older Texan, had even picked up some of his bad habits, but eventually he felt that he’d paid his dues. After a year of turning tricks, after getting a handful of his own regulars and putting together his own network of bribed motel clerks and vice cops, Jensen told Chris that he wouldn’t be paying him a cut any more. Chris had nodded. 

“Seems fair. We’re more like partners now anyway. You’ve had my back as much as I’ve had yours lately.”

“Partners. Yeah. And we’re getting an apartment. I’m sick of squatting and sleeping rough.”

“Right,” Chris snorted. “Who’s gonna rent to us? You’re only sixteen and we’ve got no legit income or work history.”

Jensen licked his lips and looked up coyly from underneath his eyelashes.

“I know a guy.  A photographer. I’ve been doing some modeling for him. Erotic and fetish shots mostly, but some mainstream stuff too. He’s putting everything I do for him down as legit modeling,” Jensen paused and looked at Chris, his eyes shining. “He said he’ll put you through his books as well. Make it look like you’ve got a legit job and a work history.”

“What’s in it for him?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I got that part covered. Mostly. You gotta do one free photo shoot for him, and then we can go out apartment hunting.’

Chris shook his head. “What’s the catch?”

Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck. “We gotta get clean.”

Chris laughed. Jensen stared him down, eyes like stones.

On the street, reputation is everything. Word on the street said that Chris was a dangerous, scary motherfucker. That he had a temper. That he was violent. His reputation was deserved.

Jensen’s rep was a little more complex. Jensen was smart, with a quick, cruel tongue. And when he went quiet, when he vibrated with furious intensity, even Chris gave him a wide berth. And Chris was a dangerous, scary motherfucker.

‘Right,” Chris sighed. “Clean and sober it is. Man, this is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

It hadn’t been easy, getting off the Speed and the Oxy. Staying off it was even harder; even now, when they’d been clean for over three years. Still, no matter how difficult it was going to be, Jensen knew that he couldn’t just let Chris walk into Ricky’s and not be there to watch his back.

“Alright,” he nodded.

Chris almost sagged with relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

-X-

Ricky’s hadn’t changed much in the last three years. Same cracked concrete driveway; same overgrown weeds; same heavy black door; same peep hole.

“Chris and Jay,” Chris told the silver glitter-rimmed eye that peered out at them. “We’re here to see Ricky.”

Jensen recognized the woman who opened the door; they’d worked a couple of parties together, but he didn’t know her name. She led them down a familiar dim corridor, her barely-covered ass swinging seductively, and ushered them into the living-room. That hadn’t changed either. Thick velvet curtains blocked out both the light and the view from the street, but it was still light enough for Jensen to take in the same old stained green carpet, battered wooden coffee table and brown-velvet lounge suite, pockmarked with cigarette burns.

  Ricky cracked a gap-toothed smile when he saw them. “Been a while,” he said, reaching underneath his dirty white wife-beater to scratch absently at his hairy beer-belly.  “But I always knew you’d both be back some day.”

Chris’s smile was tight. “We ain’t back. Just chasin’ some Oxy.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow and then reached for a chipped beige mug and took a slurp of whatever liquid was in it. “I got some 80s,” he said, frowning at the liquid, “Tammy, this is cold. Go get me some fresh.”

The woman who’d shown them in got to her feet with an irritated sigh, flashing her crotch. Snatching the mug from Ricky, she sashayed drearily into the kitchen.

Ricky leered appreciatively. “Nice piece of ass, right?”

“The Oxy?” said Chris.

“How many you want?”

“Five.”

Ricky nodded. “I can do that. $40.00 apiece.”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “Fuck you, Ricky. I ain’t a newbie. Going rate’s $20.00 a pill.”

Ricky smirked. “That’s my price for regulars. You ain’t a regular no more, kid.”

“$25.00,” said Chris.

“$35.00,” Ricky retorted.

“Fuck you,” Chris said again, his eyes hard.

Ricky sighed. “Cuz it’s you, and cuz I like you, I’ll do you a special deal. $150.00 for five.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have it,” he said. “How about I give you a hundred now and fifty later?”

Ricky shook his head. “One hundred now, seventy-five later. Gotta factor in the interest.”

“You—” Chris lurched furiously toward Ricky and Jensen put a hand to his arm and yanked him back. “Here,” Jensen reached inside his boot and pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his money clip. “Give him the hundred, Chris.”

            Chris nodded curtly and handed over the cash. Ricky took it with a sly smile and then shuffled out of the living-room to get the merchandise.

 “You’ll get it back, Jay, I swear.”

Jensen grinned. “I know I will.” He loosened the tight rein he usually kept on his Texan twang, “After all, I know where you sleep, Cowboy.”

-X-

Jared stepped off the bus and looked around. Father Michael had told him that he would be collected from the bus by a tall, dark-haired man with a greying beard called Jeff Morgan. Morgan was a former priest who ran the _Per Vias Rectas_ Drop-in Center and Outreach Program where Jared would be working. Jared would also be staying with him and his wife while he completed his ‘out in the big wide world’ assignment. 

The area where the bus had dropped him looked pretty seedy, with boarded up shop-fronts, wire fencing, graffitied walls and littered sidewalks.  Not too far away there was a guy sitting on the curb with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.  It was probably Jared’s Christian duty to go and check that the man was alright, but he was too scared to move.

“Jared?”

Jared looked up to see an average-sized blond guy waving at him.

“I knew it!” the guy hurried toward him and stuck out a hand, which Jared shook on reflex.  “Father Michael told Jeff to look for a giant puppy, and here you are.”

_Giant puppy?_

“Um. Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Chad. You got anything else? No? Just that one bag? Man, you travel light. Follow me.”

Chad took off down the road and Jared stared after him for a moment and then shook himself and hurried after him.

“I was expecting a Jeff Morgan to meet me,” Jared said.

“Yeah. There was some drama down at the drop-in center, so he sent me.”

Drama? Jared wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. But then, from what he’d learnt, _Per Vias Rectas_ worked mostly with drug addicts and prostitutes so he supposed that drama was par for the course. 

 “So you work for Mr Morgan?”

“Don’t go callin’ him Mr Morgan, he hates that. It’s Jeff. And yeah. Sort of.” Chad side-eyed him and then muttered, “S’pose you’ll find out sooner or later,” he sucked in a deep breath. “I’m on community service.”

Jared stopped walking and swung his duffel bag in front of his chest, hugging it protectively.

“Dude,” Chad’s eyes were liquid with hurt. “I’m not dangerous.”

“Why are you on community service then?”

Chad sighed. “I’ll tell you, but let’s keep walking, okay?”

Jared threw his duffel back over his shoulder and took up pace next to Chad again.

“So I’m an actor, right?” Chad said, “and a few months back I was in this LA Broadway production and I’d just left the theater with my buddy, Mike,” pain flashed briefly across Chad’s face at the mention of his friend, “and we were heading to a bar for a drink when these assholes came over and started calling us faggots, and I kinda lost my shit. Me and one of the assholes got into it and ended up punching the crap outta each other, and I was all screamin’ about how just cuz I was an actor it didn’t make me a filthy faggot. Anyway, we both got arrested and sentenced to twelve months’ probation and community service, and now my buddy Mike won’t speak to me anymore cuz it turns out that, yeah, he’s gay, even though you’d never know it to look at him.”

Chad fell quiet and Jared hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder and wondered how he should respond. When he was a child, his parents and caregivers had told him that daddies married mommies and God blessed them with children. If God didn’t bless them with children, then they could choose to open their homes and their hearts to poor orphan children like Jared and his siblings, who didn’t have a mommy and a daddy. Jared hadn’t even heard the term ‘homosexuality’ until he joined the monastery, and it certainly wasn’t something that he knew a lot about. Brother Paul had told him that all gay men were limp-wristed, lisping and effeminate, but Father Michael had disagreed.  He said it was ridiculous to suggest that all gay men displayed the same kind of behavior and personalities and that Brother Paul was just perpetuating a tired old stereotype. Jared glanced across at Chad. He supposed that Chad was comparing his friend to the stereotype when he said that his friend ‘didn’t look gay’.

Brother Paul and Father Michael did agree that the Church said homosexuality was a sin. Father Michael took less of a hard line, though, and said it wasn’t a sin to love someone of the same sex romantically _,_ but it was a sin if people tried to express that love physically with unnatural acts.

Jared and Chad walked in silence for half a block and then Chad said, “The first time I met my probation officer he told me that his name was Tom and that he was Mike’s boyfriend, which…my mouth literally fell open because _he_ didn’t look gay either,” Jared frowned and wondered if he should say something about stereotypes. “He said that I could request another PO if I wanted to, but… I’m not homophobic, Jared. And I told him that, said I didn’t care if other people were gay, I just didn’t want anyone to think _I_ was gay,” Chad slid his eyes across to Jared’s, as if checking for his understanding, so Jared nodded.  “You know what Tom said?” Chad continued. “He said saying that actually _was_ homophobic, because I wouldn’t say it unless I thought being gay was something wrong and dirty, and that I clearly had some deep-seated, pre-conceived, totally wrong notions about what it meant to be gay.  And then he said that if I was willing to stick with him, then he had the perfect community service placement for me, and here I am.”

And people said _Jared_ talked too fast and too much. Jared sifted through the information he’d just had dumped on him and then looked up when he realized that Chad was waiting nervously for some kind of verdict.

“So you’re an actor?” he said.

Chad nodded.

“And you’re not gay?”

“No. I’m all about the pussy, man.”

Jared flushed and Chad looked chagrinned. “Sorry. I forgot that you’re training for the priesthood.”

Jared smiled shyly. “Then I guess I better get used to hearing people’s dirty secrets, huh?”

Chad laughed. “I don’t really have secrets. If I think it, I say it. People may not always like me, but they always know where they stand.”

They walked a little further in silence and then Jared cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did your PO think that _Per Vias Rectas_ would be the perfect community service placement for you?”

Chad side-eyed him again. “Because of the clientele.”

“Right. But don’t we work with drug addicts and prostitutes?”

“Yeah. In West Hollywood.”

Jared frowned. “So?”

“Jesus, Jared,” Chad ran a hand across his face. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“West Hollywood is like the Gay Mecca of LA. Jared…a lot of our clients are male hookers…the type who service other men.”

-X-

Jared had been hoping that the area where Jeff and his wife Sam lived would be a little nicer than the area around the bus stop.

It wasn’t.

If anything, it was worse.

Jeff’s apartment was above the drop-in center, on the east side of West Hollywood, just off Santa Monica Boulevard, and the area had more graffiti, more litter, more broken windows and more boarded up shop fronts than anywhere Jared had seen on their walk from the bus stop.

 It was still early—only a little before six in the evening, but there were already a few young men touting for business at the road side. Chad said they were looking to hook the after-work traffic, the supposedly straight guys who liked to blow off a little steam, before they headed home to the wife and kids.  Chad made a strange face, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and gesturing somewhat crudely with his fist when he mentioned ‘blowing off steam’, so Jared assumed the expression was a euphemism for something.

Even the brothers at the monastery had considered Jared naïve; he could only imagine what a worldly man like Chad would think if he knew how little Jared knew about anything.

Jared was the eldest of five adopted children and Jared’s wealthy parents were private and paranoid. They often worked away from home for months on end, leaving the children in the care of a nanny and private tutors. Jared had been homeschooled all his life, sheltered from the outside world in a home that had several large play rooms, an indoor pool, an indoor bowling alley and a stable full of ponies, but no television (only children’s DVDs) and no internet connection. Jared’s tutors had discussed news and current affairs with him and his siblings, but, as Jared had learnt later, they’d been fed a highly sanitized version of a great many things. When he’d left home at eighteen, Jared had joined the monastery next door.  Father Michael had initially asked Jared to work with Brother Peter on the monastery’s website and had been startled when Jared had no idea what a website was. The internet had been a revelation and Jared had learned a lot that had frightened him, before he’d decided to turn away from all worldly distractions and focus on his dedication to God, taking on board all of the most menial tasks the monastery had to offer.

Jared watched as Chad pressed a button and then stepped back to wave into a camera. This, at least, was familiar. They’d had a similar security system at home.

“Come on in Chad,” a warm, disembodied female voice said, followed by a buzz and a click.

“Thanks, Sam.” Chad opened the apartment door and directed Jared through it into a small tiled hallway at the foot of a long flight of stairs. Chad pushed past him up the stairs, beckoning for Jared to follow.  He knocked on the door at the top and then went through it, calling out, “It’s me, Sam. Are you decent?”

Jared followed him through into a small room which had a black leather lounge suite, glass coffee table and flat-screen TV at one end, and a four person pine dining table at the other.  Just beyond the dining table was a narrow galley kitchen and the grey carpet gave way to grey linoleum.

A curvy, brown-haired woman —Sam, Jared presumed—turned away from the stove at Chad’s greeting and brandished a wooden spoon at him. “That’s enough of your cheek, young man,” she said, the sparkle in her eyes belying the severity of her words. “And this must be Jared. Well. Aren’t you just adorable.”

Jared ducked his head, before stepping forward and offering his hand. “Thank you for letting me stay, ma’am,” he said. “It’s very kind of you.”

Sam bypassed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

“Our pleasure,” she said. “I always like having someone around to mother,” she patted his cheek. “I’ll try not to overdo it. So, I imagine you’ll want the guided tour?” She gestured with the wooden spoon. “Kitchen; living/dining. That door there leads to our bedroom, the middle door leads to the bathroom and the one on the left is your room.” She eyed him critically. “You may find your feet hang off the end of the bed. Sorry about that. You want to put your things away?”

Jared nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Sam. Please. Ma’am just makes me feel old.”

Jared ducked his head again and then hurried toward the door she’d said was his bedroom.

“Where’s Jeff?” he heard Chad ask.

“Gen agreed to press charges. He took her down to the station to make a statement.”

“Alright,” Chad sounded approving. “You think she’ll see it through this time?”

Sam’s sigh was audible, even from the tiny, cramped bedroom where Jared was unpacking his duffel bag. “Either she will or she won’t. But I can feel it in my bones, Chad, if she goes back to Mark again, it’s gonna end real ugly. That man is her pimp, not her boyfriend and the sooner she realizes that, the better. Now, I take it you’ll be staying for dinner?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Chad.

The smack of the wooden spoon rang loudly throughout the apartment.

-X-

Jensen leaned against the front wall of the Star View Motel, next to the door to room 8. One foot was tucked up underneath him, resting flat against the brickwork, and he had a cigarette in one hand. He didn’t look up when the door opened.

“Do I know you?” said an unfamiliar voice.

Jensen raised his head. The voice’s owner reminded him vaguely of the character Burt Reynolds played when he did that movie _Striptease_ with Demi Moore; right down to the grey pin-striped suit, cowboy hat and fat cigar.

“No you don’t,” Jensen said, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“Well, is there something I can do for you? This is my motel room you’re standing in front of.”

“Just waiting for a friend.”

Burt edged a little closer. “Would that friend be Eliot?”

Jensen nodded and drew back on his cigarette again.

Burt’s eyes widened and he ran them slowly over Jensen, taking in the skin-tight jeans with strategically-placed rips and the figure-hugging black tee-shirt. 

“Are you,” Burt licked his lips. “Are you in the same line of work as Eliot?”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. And then he trailed a hand down his chest, grazing his fingertips lightly over his nipples, before casually letting it come to rest in a way that framed his groin. He licked at his lips, still a little swollen from his evening’s work, and then smiled suggestively. “What do you think, Chief?”

Burt swallowed audibly. “Maybe next time Eliot and I get together for a play date, you should come along too. Make it a threesome. What d’you say?”

The man edged even closer, reaching out a hand and resting it on Jensen’s hip.

Jensen resisted the urge to blow smoke in the man’s face. “Anything you want, Chief.”

“What’s your name, Beautiful?” Burt asked.

“Dean.”

“Well then, Dean,” the man removed his hand from Jensen’s hip and tipped the brim of his hat, “I’ll be seeing you.”

Jensen rolled his eyes as soon as the man’s back was turned, but he waited until Burt’s white Cadillac pulled out of the parking lot before butting out his cigarette and going to knock on the door of room 8.

“You ready to roll, Chris?”

There was a thud, a muted crash and a muffled curse, and Jensen huffed out a laugh. “You doin’ alright there, bro?”

The door flew open and Chris stood in the opening, swaying on his feet.

“I’m good,” he giggled. “I’m veeeeery good!”

“Uh, huh. You got everything? Ready to hit the road?”

Chris looked down at his feet, which were bare, and shook his head.

“I gotta get m’boots. Hang on a sec, Jay.” He stumbled back into the room and Jensen followed him inside.

Despite the powerful painkillers, Chris still winced when he sat down on the edge of the bed.  Jensen watched for a moment as Chris tried to put together the co-ordination necessary to get his boots on and then he dropped to his knees and took them out of Chris’s hands. Chris sighed and lay back on the bed.

“How many pills d’ya take?” Jensen asked, as he struggled to shove one of Chris’s feet into a boot.

“Three. One before, two after,” Chris sighed again. “Think I might be high.”

“Ya think? Okay,” Jensen smacked the side of Chris’s leg. “You’re suited and booted. Sit up.”

Chris sat, and then giggled. “You gonna propose?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, you’re high.”

“Gonna give me a blow job?”

“ _So_ high. Come on,” Jensen rose smoothly to his feet, taking Chris by his hands and pulling him to his too. “Let’s get you home, Cowboy.”


	3. Chapter Two

# Chapter Two

Jared met Jeff Morgan over toast and orange juice at about 7.00am the next morning.  Jared had been up for an hour and a half already— he’d always been an early riser—but he was surprised when Jeff shambled out of his bedroom and made his way over to the dining table.

“I hope to Christ you’re Jared,” he said slapping Jared on the back.

“Yessir,” Jared held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Morgan.”

“Jeff, please. I see you found the breakfast fixings alright.”

Jared flushed. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure when you’d be up, because—”

“Whoa, Jared!” Jeff held up a hand to stem the flow of Jared’s apology. “Mi casa es su casa. This is your home now too, son, and Sam told you where we keep everything, didn’t she? Told you to help yourself?”

“You don’t mind? I didn’t wake you up?”

 Jeff shook his head. “I rarely sleep more than five or six hours a night anyway.”

 Jared had gone to bed at 10.00pm the previous night and had awoken briefly about 1.00am when he’d heard the front door open and close, followed by the low rumble of a masculine voice.  What he’d heard next, coming from Jeff and Sam’s bedroom…Jared’s face burned brightly just thinking about it. When he looked up Jeff was watching him with an expression Jared couldn’t quite interpret.

“Look, Jared,” Jeff sighed and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “I know this is a small apartment, but…Sam and I have a,” he paused and seemed to be searching for the right word, “a healthy relationship. And that ain’t gonna change any time soon.”

Jared stared at the toast crumbs on his plate. “I understand,” he said. “This is your home. And you’re a married couple, so…”

“Actually, we’re not.”

“What?”

“Married. We’re not married.”

Jared’s face went red again. “Oh.”

“Is that gonna be a problem for you?” Jeff’s voice had an unpleasant hard edge to it now and Jared decided that he never wanted that tone directed at him ever again.

“No,” he said, still staring at his plate.

“Good. I know you’re training for the priesthood, but overhearing me and Sam…it’s gonna get a lot more in-your-face than that, given our clientele, and you need to be able to handle that. Can you?”

Jared looked up and met Jeff’s eyes. “Jeff…I don’t know anything about…” he bit at his bottom lip. “Everything I know about,” he lowered his eyes, “sex,” the word came out in a whisper, “I learned from animal husbandry books and the time when we brought in a ram and put it in the same paddock as the ewes.”

Jeff made a small, strangled noise and Jared looked back up at him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Jeff shook his head. “You’re nearly nineteen, Jared. Even if you’ve never watched internet porn, you can’t expect me to believe you’ve never watched TV or talked with your classmates.”

“We didn’t have a TV. Or an internet connection. And we were home-schooled. Everything that came into our house was very carefully vetted. Our parents wanted our childhood to be pressure-free and idyllic.”

“And was it?”

Jared shrugged. “Not really. Mostly it was strange and lonely.”

“Did your tutors run sex education classes?”

Jared blushed again and shook his head. “We were told we didn’t need to know about that sort of thing until we got married.”

“So you’re saving yourself for marriage?”

“I was. Not that there was ever really any opportunity for me to date. The only girls I know are either relatives or household staff old enough to be my mom or my grandma. We did sometimes have younger maids, when we were kids, but they never usually lasted very long. And then I went into the monastery and took a vow of celibacy.”

“So you’ve never really looked at another person and felt attracted to them?”

There had been a time when one of the garden staff, a good-looking young man of eighteen or nineteen, had taken his shirt off while pruning the roses. When he’d reached his arms over his head and stretched, fourteen-year-old Jared had been entranced by his rippling chest muscles. When he’d looked at Jared and winked, Jared had flushed with embarrassment and hurried away. But that wasn’t attraction. That was just Jared appreciating the beauty of the human form and wishing that his scrawny fourteen-year-old body was as finely sculpted as the gardener’s. You were supposed to be attracted to girls, anyway, and Jared had never really thought that any of the young maids had been particularly attractive. He met Jeff’s eyes and shook his head.  

Jeff frowned. “I guess you had a limited pool to choose from. What about on TV…you didn’t have a TV did you,” his frown deepened.

“We had a movie screen,” Jared said. “We did watch movies that our parents thought were suitable and appropriate. But…I never saw a girl that made me feel like I’d want to marry her.”   

“Okay,” Jeff rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Why did Father Michael tell you he was sending you to us?”

“He said that I didn’t know enough about the world to make giving it up an informed choice.”

“So he sent you to West Hollywood,” Jeff’s mouth was a grim, flat line. “For the record, all he told me was that you needed to do some community work before taking your final vows. He’s thrown you in at the deep end, Jared, and I really hope you can swim.” Jeff put his head in his hands and Jared felt obligated to apologize again.

Jeff shook his head. “It’s not your fault,” he sighed. “But Jared? We work with drug addicts and prostitutes, so for your own safety I’m gonna have to give you a crash course in basic sex ed, both gay and straight, as well as training in safe sex practices, and hygiene practices around bodily fluids and the safe handling of syringes. Think you can handle that?”

Honestly, Jared wasn’t sure.

-X-

The thing Jensen loved most about his apartment—apart from the fact that it was _his_ apartment—was the tub.

Like the rest of the apartment, the tub had seen better days. It was dented, rusted and discolored, and Jensen had to bring the plug from the kitchen sink in whenever he wanted to fill it, but it did the job. The job being giving Jensen a place where he could slather on a mud mask and soak away the hurt of having just waxed his legs, chest, groin and ass, while laying back with a beer in one hand and his favorite cd blasting out at decibels loud enough to lengthen the crack in the bathroom mirror.  Chris gave him shit about the mud masks, but Jensen figured that now that he was doing more modeling jobs and fewer back alley blow jobs, it was important to take care of the merchandise. And speaking of modeling jobs—Jensen reached a dripping arm out of the tub and fumbled on the floor for his beer bottle—what the hell was he going to do about Sebastian?

Jensen had been in the game for seven or so months when he’d met Sebastian Roche, and the man had been different from the men who usually picked Jensen up from the get-go. For starters, he’d approached Jensen on foot, not in a car. And then he’d wanted to blow Jensen, rather than get his own dick sucked. Sebastian (‘don’t shorten it’) had picked him up again a couple of weeks later and this time he’d taken Jensen back to his apartment, which was also a first.  The apartment was actually more of a penthouse—on Rodeo Drive no less—and it was sleek and classy, with a lot of black marble, leather and chrome.  It screamed both money and taste and Jensen wasn’t surprised when the first thing Sebastian told him to do was take a shower.  When he walked out of the en-suite into the master bedroom, Jensen had a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips and droplets of water scattered across his torso. Sebastian was lying on his side on the king-sized bed, palming his cock through his trousers.

“Lose the towel,” he said.

Jensen dropped it to the floor. “So, Sebastian. Now that you’ve got me here, what would you like to do with me?”

Sebastian just stared. And then he rotated his index finger and Jensen spun around slowly giving the trick a good look at the hotness he’d just bought for himself.  The cash was already tucked inside Jensen’s boot; two hundred dollars, which bought Sebastian access to Jensen’s mouth, cock and ass, and as many orgasms as he could manage in an hour. The hungry way Sebastian was looking at him was intense and a little creepy, and Jensen was glad that he’d lubed and stretched in the bathroom; Sebastian looked as if he were only seconds away from throwing him face down on the bed for a deep, hard dicking and Jensen doubted he’d take the time to prep the whore first.  

The silent staring was become unnerving.

Fuck. What if Sebastian was a nutjob? What if he’d lured Jensen here to dismember him? Jensen began to feel uneasy, but he tried not to let it show.

“How old are you?” Sebastian asked.

This could be a trick question. If he answered honestly, Jensen could find himself turned in to Children’s Services, maybe even sent back to Texas. He suppressed a shudder. On the other hand, if he lied, and claimed to be of age, the trick could lose interest and try to snatch his money back. Jensen batted his eyelashes. “How old do you want me to be?”

Sebastian uncoiled from the bed and stalked Jensen with intent. Jensen tried to stand still, he really did, but Sebastian’s intensity was scaring him and he found himself backing away. He stopped when his back hit a wall, and swallowed hard when the trick pinned him to it with an arm either side of his shoulders.

“How old are you?” Sebastian repeated.

For reasons he never quite understood, Jensen blurted out the truth.

Sebastian nodded and backed away. When his legs hit the edge of the bed he sat down and held his head in his hands.

Jensen watched him for a moment and then cleared his throat. “So, uh. What are we doing?”

Sebastian lifted his head. “Well we won’t be fucking, more’s the pity. I do have _some_ scruples.”

“Is that cuz of the age thing?”

Sebastian laughed. “Yes, Dean. It’s because of ‘the age thing’. Christ, kid, you’re _fifteen_. You really are just a kid.”

 Jensen crossed slowly to the bed and sat down next to Sebastian.

“That has some advantages, you know.  My recovery time’s awesome. And I like sex. A lot. Think about it Seb,” Sebastian glared at him. “I’m a teenage boy who gets paid to have sex. It’s not a bad way to earn a buck, trust me.”

“Are you actually gay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

“And your parents?”

“They’re not gay,” Jensen said lightly. “Funny, isn’t it, how many straight folk manage to pop out gay kids?”

“That’s not what I meant, Dean.”

Jensen sighed. “I’m naked, man. Don’t really wanna think about my parents right now. And speaking of being naked, my original question still stands. You’re gonna wanna get some kind of bang for your buck, cuz I ain’t givin’ it back.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should spank your ass for being such a cheeky little shit?”

Jensen struggled to keep the smile from sliding off his face. “Sure, man,” he managed to keep the displeasure from showing in his voice too, “whatever you want.”

Sebastian treated him to another intense stare. “Is that something you would enjoy?”

Jensen opened his mouth, planning to utter some drivel about how he’d enjoy anything that a hot stud like Sebastian did to him. What came out was: “No.  I fucking hate ‘naughty schoolboy’ role play. But I’ll do it if you want me to.”

 Sebastian nodded. “I think, what I’d like,” he said haltingly, “is to photograph you.”

And Jensen had let him. Sebastian had posed him naked on a tiger skin rug; in a giant tub with gold clawed-feet, half-filled with fake rose petals; and on the bed, with black satin sheets entwined sensually around him. The camera had loved Jensen and, to his surprise, Jensen had discovered that he didn’t mind posing for shots.

If it wasn’t for those first photographs Sebastian had taken, and his connections, Jensen would never have done any modeling work. And without the modeling, his bank account wouldn’t be so fat.  If it wasn’t for Sebastian, Jensen wouldn’t have this apartment.  And—he put his half-empty beer bottle back on the floor and felt around in the tub for the wash cloth—Jensen loved his apartment.

Once he’d scrubbed himself clean of the mud mask, Jensen reached for his beer again and finished it off while he pondered his relationship with Sebastian Roche.  He’d always planned to get his GED, but Sebastian’s approval, and Jensen’s bank balance meant that he’d been able to do so sooner than originally planned.  If things kept going as they were, by the time Jensen was twenty-three, he’d be able to afford to move to a nicer area of California and go to college. And he had Sebastian to thank for that. Jensen was grateful, he really was, but he didn’t feel the same way about Sebastian that Sebastian felt about him.  To Jensen, Sebastian was a client. A VIP client, sure—one of the few who (now) knew Jensen’s real name; a client he liked; but still just a client.

Sebastian thought he was something more.  That first photo session—nearly five years ago now—had ended with Sebastian jerking off. He hadn’t touched Jensen again (except in the most clinical of ways to position him for photos) until after Jensen’s sixteenth birthday. And they didn’t fuck until Jensen turned eighteen. Now, Sebastian wanted to introduce him to his family, like they were dating or something. And Jensen wasn’t sure how to say no without hurting Seb’s feelings.

-X-

Danneel was curled up in Jensen’s favorite corner of the couch, her long red fingernails wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jensen. He was mostly dry, but still naked, with a threadbare green towel draped cape-like around his shoulders.

“Jensen,” her tone was exasperated. “Put some damn clothes on. I don’t need to see that.” She waved a hand in the general vicinity of his groin.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “People pay good money to see this, I’ll have you know. Besides you’re the one in _my_ living-room.”

Danni’s lips thinned and Jensen moved the towel from his shoulders to his waist with a sigh.  “You know you’re pretty prudish for a stripper. It’s not like _Whiskey and Rye_ doesn’t have male strippers; you think you’d be used to it by now.”

Danni shrugged. “It’s my day off.”

“And it’s my apartment. Where’s Chris?”

“In here!” Chris yelled from the kitchen.

“He’s re-heating the wheat bag,” Danni said, her voice pitched low. “And he seems a little…high. Rough night?”

Jensen screwed up his face. “He had a date with donkey-dick last night.”

“The cowboy fetish guy?” Danni’s face tightened, “Jensen, I don’t care how good the guy pays, if Chris’s popping pills to get through it, he’s gotta ditch him. If he goes down that path again…”

Danneel had been friends with Jensen and Chris for a long time. She’d been there during the year that Jensen and Chris had spent getting clean; knew about the aches and the shakes, the barfing and the fevered sweating, the depression and the lethargy. She’d been there for the nightmares, and had even handcuffed Jensen to his radiator at one point, when he’d been determined to go out and score. She’d held both of them more than once as they’d cried themselves to sleep and she’d been there for the slips too. She’d celebrated with Jensen when he’d first managed three months clean, and she’d sat with him in the ER waiting room when Chris accidentally overdosed after five months sober and nearly died.

“I hear you,” he nodded.

“I hear you too!” Chris walked back into the living-room carrying two cups of coffee, with a wheat bag draped over his shoulder.  He handed one of the coffees off to Jensen and then lowered himself carefully onto the armchair and pressed the heated wheat bag against his stomach.

“You working tonight?” Jensen asked with feigned nonchalance.

Chris nodded. “Strictly blowjobs only.”

“What’ve you been taking?” Danneel demanded. “Was it Oxy? How many d’you take?”

Chris’s eyes darted to Jensen’s and Jensen raised his chin slightly. Chris might not like it, but after what Danneel had been through with them, she had a right to ask.

Chris nodded and sighed. “Yeah. Oxy. Took three last night; one before, two after. I took one when I woke up and I’ll take another one…the last one…when I go out tonight. Not trying to get high here, Danni, just looking for some pain relief.”

Danneel took a sip of her tea, her gaze fixed on Chris. “Promise? Do you cross your heart and hope to die that you won’t go down that path again? Won’t drag Jay onto it with you?”

Chris nodded. His expression was sincere, but he could’ve been faking it. Chris was a good actor. You kind of had to be when you were a straight guy pretending to love gay sex. Although, Jensen inclined his head, maybe ‘pretending’ wasn’t quite the right word. Jensen had seen Chris come from getting fucked, so he probably didn’t totally hate it.  Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he was bi with a preference for women.

Danni took hold of Jensen’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t just humor me; mean it,” she looked pointedly at Chris before glancing back at Jensen. “It nearly killed him when you almost died, Chris. Don’t you dare put him through that again.” Her expression was fierce, like a cross between a momma bear and a warrior princess, and Jensen lifted Danni’s hand and kissed her knuckles. In another world, one in which he was straight and not a damaged fuck up, Jensen would marry this girl.

“Not gonna get addicted again,” Chris promised. And then changed the subject. “So, Danni, you tell Jay the ‘good news’ yet?”

Jensen raised his eyebrows expectantly and Danneel sighed and pulled away from him. “Katie moved out,” she said grudgingly.

Jensen’s lips curled into a malicious smile. “Good. Can’t stand that bitch.”

Danni smacked his arm. “It’s not good.  Rent’s due today. You think Katie left me her half before she fucked off?”

Jensen’s lips thinned. “How much you need?  I got you covered.”

Danneel looked down at her cup, her eyes stormy. “You know that’s not why I came around, right? I don’t expect—”

“I know,” Jensen rubbed a soothing hand across her shoulder. “That’s why I don’t mind. I know you’ll pay me back.”

Danneel looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thanks Jay,” she ran her tongue across her bottom lip. “You know, I hate to say it, but it looks like you were right about Katie. She didn’t just fuck me over for rent, she took some of my stuff when she skipped out.”

“Bitch,” Jensen gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.  “Well, I hate to say ‘I told you so’—”

Chris snorted. “No you fuckin’ don’t.”

“Hey,” Danneel suddenly smiled brightly. “Katie skipping town means there’s an opening at _Whiskey and Rye_. Why don’t one of you go for it?”

Chris and Jensen made eye contact again and sniggered.

“Sure,” said Chris, “we can be singin’ cowboys and boot-scoot our way around your stripper pole.”

“Right,” Jensen nodded solemnly. “Gotta be someone would pay good money to see that, right?”

Danni sighed dramatically. “It’s really not that hard, guys. You just gotta shake your ass while you gradually peel your clothes off.”

Jensen shook his head. “I don’t dance, sweetheart. And nobody’s ever paid me to take my clothes off _slowly_ ; wouldn’t know how to do it.”

“So I guess you’re on the lookout for a new roommate?” Chris tactfully changed the subject again. Danneel had been after them to quit hooking and start stripping for years.

“Yeah. So if you hear of anyone looking for a place to stay, let me know.”

“Actually,” said Chris, “I think I might know of someone. You guys heard what happened to Gen, right?”

Jensen looked up sharply. “Must’ve missed that on the hooker grapevine,” he snarked. “What did Mark do to her this time?”

“Who’s Jen?” Danneel interrupted.

Jensen turned to look at her. “Genevieve. She’s a little part-Italian girl. You might know her as Ruby? She’s one of Pellegrino’s girls.”

Danneel winced. “Jesus Christ. She’s not the one who…?”

Chris nodded.

“Omigod.”

“What?” Jensen was clearly irritated at being out of the loop. “What happened?”

Danneel and Chris were having some sort of silent conversation and Jensen was just about out of patience. “What the hell, guys?”

Chris ran a hand across his mouth and cleared his throat. “So uh, she had a date with, uh… You know that guy who reckons he’s a demon?”

Jensen’s breath caught in his throat and he battled to control the fight or flight response that any mention of that particular trick caused. “He’s in prison.”

“Got out last week apparently.”

Jensen clenched his jaw. “After what he did to…? How the _fuck..._?”

Chris shrugged. “Overcrowding; time off for good behavior. I guess Alastair’s a model prisoner when he’s not carving up hookers.”

Jensen scowled at Chris. “His name is Christopher Heyerdahl. And he’s not a demon; he’s a psychotic accountant who starts wearing black contacts when he stops taking his meds.”

Danneel squeezed his hand and Jensen pulled away from her. “Did you know about this too?”

“Not until last night. And after what he did to Ruby…Gen…they put him straight back in prison so,” she shrugged, her eyes apologetic. “I didn’t figure there was any need to mention it to you.”

Jensen ducked his head and took a deep, shuddering breath before hunching over and wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Did he do the same thing to Gen that…that…?”

Danneel pulled him into a hug. “Yeah.”

Jensen frowned. “Where the hell was Mark? I mean, what’s the point of having a pimp if he doesn’t look out for you?”

“He was right there,” Chris said. “Gen safe-worded and Alastair…sorry, _Christopher_ …paid Mark extra to let him keep going anyway.”

Jensen didn’t even realize that he’d slipped his hands underneath the towel and started running his fingertips up and down the scars on his inner thighs until Danni gently took ahold of his wrists and pulled his hands into hers.  It had been two years since Christopher had tried to carve him into a whole new creature and the scars were just thin white lines now, barely even noticeable.

“I never agreed to the knife,” he said. Which Danni and Chris knew because he’d told them before. Repeatedly. “Did Gen?”

Chris nodded. “She doesn’t mind a bit of blood play. But she asked Mark to stay close, just in case Christopher went overboard again.”

Jensen snorted. “Fucking asshole pimp. Thank God we’ve got each other’s backs, huh Chris?” He drained his coffee and then dumped the cup on the coffee table and got to his feet. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”

When Jensen was working he favored jeans that fitted like a second skin and tiny, tight tee-shirts. He always wore combat boots because they were hard to take off and they were high enough that he could put his money, pocket knife, a tube of lube and a handful of condoms down the side of them.  When he went out with friends or to the grocery store, he generally went for a nice pair of jeans, a button-down shirt and a pair of slip-ons. Around the house, though, he rarely wore more than a pair of sweat pants and a tee-shirt (or hoodie if it was cold).  Jensen loved to dress up. Maybe it was a gay thing, maybe it wasn’t, but he really enjoyed coordinating outfits and taking the time to style his hair. After five years of hooking and modeling, though, he’d come to appreciate the times when he didn’t have to make an effort, and nothing said ‘the merchandise is not for sale’ like baggy grey sweat pants and an over-sized tee-shirt.

When Jensen came out of his room, Chris and Danneel were still talking about Gen.

“I dunno,” Danni was twisting her long, dark hair around her finger. “I want to, but they don’t call Mark the Satan of Sunset for nothing and he’s pretty pissed at her.”

Chris nodded. “He’ll try something for sure. But I reckon he’ll be subtle about it now that Jeff’s involved.”

Jensen shook a cigarette out of its packet and lit it as he moved into the room. “Mark ain’t scared of a guy like Jeff,” he said, putting his smokes and lighter down on the coffee table.

“I dunno, Jay, Jeff used to be a priest. To a guy like Pellegrino, that means something. Maybe not much, but still. And anyway, it ain’t just Jeff, there’s Misha too.”

Jensen scowled. “Misha’s a freak.”

“Well, yeah,” Chris grinned, “how many vegan yoga teachers who do volunteer work with hookers, addicts and the homeless come from a Russian Mafia family? Of course he’s a freak. But he saw what Mark did to Gen when she told him she’d been to the cops about _Christopher_. He’ll be keepin’ an eye on her too.”

Danneel nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna go and see Jeff, let him know Gen’s welcome to stay with me,” she inclined her head to one side, her expression pensive. “Maybe she’d like to take over Katie’s job at the club too,” she turned to Jensen. “Come with me?”

Jensen laughed. “To _Perving at Rectums_? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Danneel scowled. “It’s _Per Vias Rectas_. It’s Latin for something.”

“Whatever,” Jensen took a long drag on his cigarette, smoke trailing out his mouth when he spoke, “I’m not going there. I sure as shit don’t need my soul saved for Jesus.”

“Please?” Danneel made puppy dog eyes at him and Jensen could feel himself caving.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Just let me get changed again.”


	4. Chapter Three

# Chapter Three

When Jared was three, Mom and Dad brought the twins home. Elena and Ilona came from an orphanage in Romania, and Mom thought that they might, maybe, look a bit like Jared when they grew up because his background was Polish.

Romania and Poland may have been close on a map of Europe, but the girls didn’t grow to look anything like Jared. They were a lot darker and a lot shorter than him for a start, and Ilona had a limp. She had to have a lot of surgery to correct some problem with her hip, caused, the pediatrician said, by having been left lying in a cramped crib for days on end. The twins were quieter than Jared too and nowhere near as inquisitive.

When Jared was five, Mom and Dad brought home Dosu, who had the blackest skin Jared had ever seen. He came from an orphanage in Mogadishu, which was nowhere near either Poland or Romania, so Jared figured that Mom and Dad had given up on trying to get all their kids to match. Dosu was Jared’s favorite. He was a happy, bubbly kid, full of life and energy, and Jared’s only brother.

Finally, when Jared was seven, Mom and Dad brought home Raisa. She was just as dark at Dosu, but she came from an orphanage in a part of Africa called the Democratic Republic of Congo. Raisa loved to dance and was always getting in trouble with Nanny for shaking her hips in a way that Nanny said was ‘inappropriate’. Nanny said a lot of things were inappropriate and she reinforced her views on appropriate behavior vigorously, with a small wooden paddle.  Jared’s butt throbbed remembering it. Or maybe the hard wooden chair he’d been sitting on for several hours was finally starting to bruise his backside.

Jared leaned against the back of the kitchen chair, wrapped his arms around it and cracked his back. He was part way through a very large pile of books that Jeff had left for him to read, and there was no doubt in his mind that Nanny would’ve considered most—if not all—of them highly inappropriate.  For example, according to the book he was currently reading, masturbation was a normal and healthy part of adolescent and adult sexuality.  Nanny called it The Vile Habit (the capitalization obvious in her tone) and the one time she’d caught him doing it, she’d paddled his twelve-year-old butt so hard that sitting down had hurt for a week.

The more of Jeff’s books Jared read, the more bewildered he became. On the one hand, the well-reasoned, medical, secular approach to human sexuality detailed in the various texts spread across the kitchen table made a lot of sense to him. On the other hand, he’d been taught that any type of sexual interaction outside of the covenant of marriage was a sin. Fornication was a sin. Adultery was a sin. Contraception was a sin. The Roman Catholic Church held that the purpose of sexual intercourse was procreation and that deliberately preventing the joining of an egg and sperm was a sin. In times gone by, the Church took a strict line on what that meant; if you didn’t want a baby, you abstained from sex, even if you were married. Nowadays, the Church accepted that a healthy physical relationship was good for a marriage and they preached a combination of abstinence and natural family planning methods, such as the rhythm method.   

Jared knew that not all Christian denominations took the same hard line as his Church. And there were a lot of Catholic priests who felt that Catholic dogma needed to be brought in line with contemporary thinking too. Father Michael was one of them. He’d been to an inter-faith conference earlier in the year and had come home with enthusiastic tales of ministries which thought—and did things—very differently. Some allowed the ordination of women; some approved of contraception; some were accepting of homosexuality. One pastor had told Father Michael that he had a lot more success with his younger parishioners when he explained things to them using facts and logic. He’d told his Youth Group that pre-marital sex was wrong, not only because the Bible said so, but also because sexual arousal increased a person’s production of pheromones, and exposure to sexual pheromones could leave a person very vulnerable to being manipulated by another. This fact, the pastor said, proved that the trust and commitment of marriage was needed before any type of sexual contact was safe to indulge in.

Brother Paul had scoffed and said that the word of the Bible alone ought to be good enough for everyone. He and Father Michael rarely saw eye to eye on matters of canon law and doctrine. Paul was older, a traditionalist who argued vigorously that you couldn’t pick and choose what you wanted to believe. He disapproved of Michael’s progressive views, and during one memorable clash had accused him of pandering to the whims of the ‘Cafeteria Catholics’, and letting their faith down. But Jared could see why change was necessary. His upbringing had been sheltered, his parents and carers conservative traditionalists, and even he could see that the Church’s inflexible hierarchy was becoming increasingly irrelevant to a generation who had the world’s biggest knowledge library and research facility at their fingertips. Jared had never liked it when Nanny or his parents told him ‘because I said so,’ and while faith meant trusting in God implicitly, he still liked to have God’s word backed up by fact. He could see that giving people rational explanations for doctrine was helpful.

Jared’s brow creased as he flicked through a pamphlet from Planned Parenthood. He could see the value in abstaining from sexual activity until you found someone who you could really trust, but did a ceremony make someone more trustworthy? Given the number of people who committed adultery, Jared didn’t think so. Was marriage really important, or was it the love and loyalty in a person’s heart that had the real value? Jeff and Sam weren’t married, yet they seemed completely committed to each other.

Jared picked up a book with a rainbow-colored cross on the front cover. Homosexuality was another sin. Father Michael always said that God didn’t make mistakes, that those who were same-sex attracted were just as God intended, but because sex without the capacity for procreation was a sin, same-sex attracted couples must never act on that attraction. That had always seemed rather cruel to Jared. Then again, a lot of God’s tests and challenges seemed cruel. Brother Paul always said that God had a plan and just because we didn’t understand it, it didn’t mean the plan wasn’t a good one.  If we could see the bigger picture, the tests God gave us wouldn’t seem so cruel. Trust in God, Paul would say, waggling a finger at Jared, and you won’t be led astray.

Jared put down the book and picked up his cup of tea with a sigh. Sam had left him a plate of cookies too and he helped himself to an Oreo, polishing it off in two quick bites, before taking a slurp of his sweet, milky tea. Jared could trust in God, that wasn’t a problem. He believed in God’s word. But he had increasingly been finding—even before he’d left the monastery—that he didn’t trust in man’s interpretation of God’s word. The more he learnt about theology, the more he analyzed canon law and religious doctrine, and examined the meaning of scripture, the less certain he became. And the texts that Jeff had just given him to read? Jared put his cup down and buried his head in his hands. Brother Paul would call some of them heretical and call for them to be burned.

Jared peeked through his fingers at the books he hadn’t been game to tackle yet. He knew now why Father Michael had sent him here. This was a test of faith. Out here in the real world, Jared’s beliefs were being challenged as never before and if Jared were going to be anybody’s priest, then he had to be absolutely certain that his belief in the righteousness of his Church was rock solid. Right now? He wasn’t so sure that it was.

-X-

The clomp-clomp of foot-falls on the stairs and the rustle of shopping bags announced Sam’s return. Jared pushed back from the table and rushed to see if he could help. He met Sam half way down the stairs and insisted on taking the four white shopping bags she was carrying off her hands. 

“How was your morning?” he asked.

“Can’t complain. I did the shopping for downstairs and then helped out with lunch prep and serving.   How’s your reading going?”

Jared pulled a face. “There’s a lot there to think about. And I think we can safely say that I now know more about STDs than I ever wanted to,” he shuddered. “Some of those pictures are pretty scary.”

He dumped the bags on the kitchen bench. “Do you want me to help you unpack them?”

“No, I got it. You get on with your reading. Did you have lunch yet?”

“I did,” Jared sat back down at the table. “I had a ham and cheese sandwich and some orange juice.” He glared at the pile of books before him and then sighed. Jared loved reading, he really did, but he never had been the kind of person who could sit still for long. He flipped open the book he’d been reading when he’d heard Sam coming up the stairs, a straight-talking little text called _Sex_. _Sex_ chatted happily and graphically about the various ways a man and a woman could enjoy making love together. It even had pictures.  Jared turned the page and was confronted by a picture of a man licking a woman’s vagina. His face flushed and he slammed the book shut. There was no way he could read this with Sam in the room. He glanced across at _Sex’s_ companion book, a similar sized text called _Gay Sex_. The idea of looking at that one terrified him.

“Sam?”

“Yes, Sweetie?”

“I’ve been reading for nearly five hours and, well, I kind of need to _do_ something now. Is there…anything I can help with?”

Sam eyed him speculatively and then reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She punched in a number and then waited.

“Jeff? It’s NA this afternoon, right?

“No, I was just wondering if maybe Jared could come down and help you. He’s been reading all morning and he’s kind of,” Sam eyed Jared with a twinkle in her eye, her lips twitching, “champing at the bit; needs to burn off some energy. You know, go outside and play.”

Jared could hear Jeff’s booming laugh from where he sat at the table and he flushed slightly at being described like a child. Sam winked at him and then nodded a couple of times.

“Okay. Great. I’ll send him down,” she hung up and turned to Jared with a smile. “Jeff’s downstairs in the drop-in center. He said you can go down and he’ll find some things for you to help with. Is that alright?”

Jared shot to his feet. “It’s great,” he glanced up sheepishly from beneath his bangs. “I’m sorry if I’m too…bouncy. Brother Paul used to say I was like Tigger from those children’s stories; always leaping about and being too curious for my own good.”

“Jared, honey,” Sam came across and patted the back of his hand. “In our line of work there’s no such thing as a person with too much energy. You go on downstairs now and put that bounciness to good use.”

-X-

Credence Clearwater Revival was singing about junk yard dogs and Jeff was cleaning mashed potato and gravy off a wall when Jared walked into _Per Vias Rectas_.

At the far end of the drop-in center, which was much longer than it was wide, there were several battered couches and coffee tables, and some old school desks which housed PCs. In the middle of the room there were a bunch of big, rectangular tables with white plastic table cloths, and at the front there was a collection of shelves, crammed full of books and magazines. Several of the shelves had brightly colored plastic bowls, filled with condoms, on top of them. Jared looked away quickly, embarrassed, but his eyes immediately caught a poster showing one man kissing the neck of another while holding a condom packet. The caption read: _Rip and Roll_. Now completely mortified, he tore his eyes away and swallowed, before clearing his throat and waving at Jeff.

Jeff straightened up, his movements loose and fluid and his smile easy.

“Hey, kid.”

Jared nodded at the mashed potato dripping down the wall. “What happened?”

Jeff’s smile dimmed. “Amos O’Sullivan happened. Most of the time he’s harmless; mutters to himself, holds tight to his bag, and bends your ear with baseball stats if you sit still for too long, but he’s harmless. When he goes off his meds it’s a whole different story. He thinks he’s still fighting the Viet Cong. Today he took exception to Mary Tran coming over to sit at his table; threw a full plate of food at her.”

“Oh,” Jared struggled to think of something to say to that. “Um. Does…stuff like that happen often?”

Jeff shrugged. “It’s a volatile environment. So. I’ve got Alona and Rob on clean-up duty in the kitchen. I was thinking you could go and give them a hand and then come back out here at 3.00 o’clock and sit in on the NA meeting. How does that sound?”

Jared nodded vigorously. “Good. Sounds good. What’s an NA meeting?”

Jeff blinked. “NA stands for Narcotics Anonymous. It’s like an AA meeting, only for drug addicts rather than alcoholics.”

Jared nodded again. “AA. I guess that’s Alcoholics Anonymous, right?”

 For a moment Jeff just stared at him and then he drew a deep breath and ran a hand across his mouth. “Right. I keep forgetting. Sheltered upbringing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jared’s face was like a kicked puppy’s again.

Jeff smiled and patted Jared on the arm. “You don’t need to be. I just need to remember to do a better job of explaining things to you. Speaking of, how did you find the reading I gave you?”

Jared’s mouth twisted. “Some of it was pretty confronting. Some of the pictures were…graphic.”

Jeff chuckled. “Wait ‘til you meet our clients,” he said. “Some of them make _Chad_ look like the epitome of decorum and good taste.”

“Chad?” Jared frowned. “Chad was nice.”

Jeff gaped. “Really? He was worried that he’d scarred you for life with all his foot-in-mouth rambling.”

Jared shook his head. “He just told me the truth about himself. And what you do here. I’ve been lied to a lot in my life, always ‘for my own good’. I appreciate honesty just about more than anything.”

Jeff looked at him searchingly and then nodded approvingly. “You know Jared,” he slapped him on the back. “I think you’re going to do just fine here. Now, how about you go and help Alona and Rob in the kitchen?”

-X-

Alona was a sweet, blonde girl. She took Jared under her wing immediately, explaining to him how the kitchen operated, when and how they served meals, where everything went and what could be stacked in the dishwasher and what had to be washed by hand. Rob was elbow deep in dirty dish water, hand washing pots, so he merely raised a wet hand and gave Jared a muttered greeting as Alona flitted around the place giving Jared the guided tour. Eventually, she put him to work drying the pots that Rob was washing and went back to rinsing off the next load of dishes that would go in the dishwasher. Both she and Rob proved to be friendly and chatty and Jared soon had their life stories.

Alona was twenty-four, a former US Army Transmission Systems Operator who had served out her first four year term and then found a lump in her breast during her routine, re-enlistment medical. After a lot of soul-searching she had opted not to re-enlist and six months of chemo later she was in remission and working for the CW as a Sound Recordist. She worked long, irregular hours, sometimes on location, but at the moment her show was on hiatus, so she was filling her days with volunteer work.

 Rob was forty, a freelance editor who worked mostly for a major publishing house.  He had lost his younger brother Phil to drug addiction and the streets years ago, and volunteered at _Per Vias Rectas_ as a sort of a penance; he thought that if he’d been a better brother, Phil might still be alive.

When Jared explained that he was here to do twelve months work in the community before taking his final vows to become a Catholic priest, Rob raised his eyebrows and looked at him askance, but Alona beamed.

“My father is a Rabbi,” she said. “I have a lot of respect for people who feel a calling to lead their congregation in worship.”

The kitchen was more or less clean now and Rob shoved the very last washed baking tray into the cupboard with a loud clatter.

“You sure about the priesthood, kid?” he said. “Never having a life partner, never having kids and a family. That’s a big decision.”

“Oh yeah,” Alona’s face fell. “You guys aren’t allowed to marry, are you? That’s so weird.”

Jared cleared his throat. “To be honest…I think that’s why I’m here. Father Michael wanted me to get some real life experience before I take the final step.”

“Hmmm,” Alona was looking at him thoughtfully. “Jared,” suddenly Jared didn’t like the twinkle in her eye. “Have you ever dated?”

He blushed and shook his head.

“Okay,” she hooked her arm through his and beamed up at him. “I’ve got a couple of non-Jewish girlfriends whose little sisters would love to do dinner and a movie with a tall, handsome young man like you. I’m gonna set you up with some dates, baby.”

“I…no,” Jared shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the kind of ‘life experience’ he had in mind. I’ve taken a vow of celibacy. I can’t…go…can’t do…”

Alona laughed. “You really think you’re gonna get lucky on the first date? You can date, Jared. And the fact that you won’t be pushing for sex? Definite factor in your favor.”

Jared squirmed. “It’s very nice of you to, you know, um, but, uh…can you, maybe, not? I mean…I don’t think…I…”

“Whoa!” Alona put her hands over Jared’s. “Relax. It’s no big deal. I was just trying to help. If you don’t want to date at the moment, that’s fine.”

Jared took a tremulous, deep breath and then smiled. “Sorry. I just don’t really like the idea of being set up like that. Too much pressure. I’d rather just…get to know people. And if it happens just, you know, take it from there.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Alona patted him on the hand. “Momma always says I’m too pushy.”

Jared grinned at her. “You know one of my older sisters—not older than me, I’m the oldest, but she’s one of the older girls; one of the twins and the twins are only eighteen months younger than me. Anyway, her name’s Ilona, really similar to yours. But you actually remind me a little of our youngest sister, Raisa. She’s only fourteen—the baby of the family—but she’s definitely the bossiest.”

Alona laughed. “Bossy, yeah, that’s me.  I’m the baby of the family too. Maybe that’s what it is, huh?”

Before Jared could respond, though, Jeff called for him and asked him to help set the room up for the NA meeting.

-X-

If there was one thing that Jensen did not need in his life, it was the God Squad. In his experience, Jesus freaks were judgmental, bigoted assholes, who were way too obsessed with his sex life and nowhere near interested enough in the aspects of his life that were actually a problem. Those parts, he’d changed by himself with no help from anybody—except Chris—so as far as Jensen was concerned, Jeff Morgan and his little bunch of do-gooders could go fuck themselves.

“Jay? Jensen!”

Jensen looked at Danneel. “What?”

“Why’d you stop walking?”

Jensen glanced across the road at the front door of _Per Vias Rectas_ and shuddered.  He pulled his hood up and ducked his head, burying his hands deep into the front pocket of his hoodie.  “I’m only doing this for you,” he said. “Don’t expect me to be nice to anyone.”

Danneel sighed and took ahold of his wrist, pulling one hand free of the hoodie, and holding it firmly in her own manicured hand.

“Pussy,” she said fondly, before tugging him across the road and through the front door of the drop-in center.

Jensen hadn’t expected the place to smell so _homey_. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It was almost like being back home, on a day when his momma had made meatloaf. He squeezed Danni’s hand and leaned into the warmth of her body before opening his eyes and looking around. The place was nicer than he’d expected. There were gay-friendly safe sex posters, books, PCs, tables, couches, a friendly, relaxed atmosphere and not a single religious symbol in sight.

Jensen straightened his back and reinforced his internal defenses. This was how they got you. They pretended to be your friend, gave you nice things and slowly reeled you in. Then the Jesus talk started. _He died for you, even though he hates fags. You have to change. Who you are isn’t good enough for God_.  _You’ll go to hell._ Well fuck that. _They_ could go to hell! Jensen liked who he was and he wasn’t changing for anybody.

The man himself, Jeff Morgan, looked up from where he and another guy were setting out chairs in a big circle. He smiled and straightened up, stepping forward as if to greet them. He probably thought he had some new meat to drag into his flock of mindless sheep, but Jensen planned on disabusing him of that notion pretty quick.

Jensen was nobody’s sheep.

He forestalled the ex-Father’s greeting by giving a low whistle and then strutting forward, swinging his hips loosely. “Well fuck me sideways, Padre. Here I am on holy ground, and I didn’t burst into flames yet!”

Jeff’s smile had the audacity to widen.

“This ain’t holy ground, kid,” he said.

“Ain’t a kid,” Jensen retorted.

Jeff held out a hand. “Jeff Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”

Jensen nodded. “I know who you are,” he pointed at Danneel, who was glaring daggers at him. “She wants to talk to you.”

Danneel took that as her cue to hurry forward and shake Jeff’s hand.

“I’m Danneel,” she said. “I’ve seen you around. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.”

“Ass kisser,” Jensen said.

Danni smacked his arm and gave him the laser eyes of death. “Asshole. Sorry, sir.”

 “No apology necessary. And please, call me Jeff. It’s nice to meet you, Danneel. Do you work around here?”

Danneel nodded. “I’m a dancer over at _Whiskey and Rye_.”

“Oh, I know one of the bar tenders down there. Steve? Great singing voice. Plays the guitar.”

“Yes,” Danneel beamed. “He’s good friends with Jensen’s roommate, Chris.”

She nodded at Jensen as she spoke and now Jensen was the one glaring. The last thing he wanted was someone like Jeff Morgan knowing his real name.

“You must be, Jensen,” Jeff Morgan offered his hand again.

Jensen ignored it. “Nah, I’m Dean.”

He stared over Jeff’s shoulder at the guy who’d been helping Jeff set up when they walked in. He was kind of cute; a floppy-haired kid with puppy dog eyes. Now that he wasn’t bent over moving furniture around, Jensen could see that he was really tall too. And holding a chair in front of himself like some kind of protective barricade. Jensen grinned wickedly.

“Hey there, cowboy,” he stepped around Jeff and sashayed toward the kid. The kid’s eyes widened adorably and he started to blush. “Well ain’t you just a long, tall, cool drink of water.”

The kid took a step backwards and somehow managed to fall over a chair, knocking several others flying and ending up sprawled on his back on the floor.

“You okay, Jared?” Jeff came hurrying over.

Jensen leaned down quickly and helped the kid to his feet before Jeff could reach them.  The kid’s hands were sweaty and so damn big that Jensen’s heart skipped a beat. Just thinking about those hands wrapped around his cock was enough to start his motor running.

“Jared, huh?” Jensen pitched his voice low.

The kid blushed again and nodded. “What _is_ your name?” he ventured. “Dean or Jensen?”

Jensen replied in the smoky-gravelly voice that made tricks go weak at the knees. “Sweetheart, my name’s whatever you want it to be,” he stepped forward, right into Jared’s personal space, then reached down and palmed the kid’s cock. The kid went completely rigid.

“Damn. Hands like that, I just knew you’d be proportional. Might even do you for free.”

A hard hand on Jensen’s shoulder ripped him away from confused puppy eyes and adorable floppy hair. The hand spun him around and Jensen found himself facing a very angry grizzly bear. “For fuck’s sake,” the grizzly growled. “He’s a _kid_!”

Jensen glanced back at Jared. He saw the innocence in his eyes and the awkwardness of his stance and suddenly the confusion and blushing made sense of a different sort. He’d just molested a child. A very tall child, to be sure, but still just a boy.

Jensen’s stomach flipped and he could feel the color draining from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone aghast. “I didn’t…I would _never_ …”

Jared shook his head. “I’m not a kid. I’m nearly 19.”

“But he’s led a very sheltered life,” Jeff contradicted.

Jensen was relieved that he hadn’t actually molested a child, but the implication that because Jared had been over-protected his whole life, everyone had to continue to treat him with kid gloves, really pissed him off.

“Yeah?” he said, voice hard. “Well ain’t that just awesome for him. Not all of us had the luxury of being protected from the world.”

Jeff scrubbed a hand over his face and when he looked back up at Jensen the angry grizzly was gone and his professional demeanor was back in place.

“You’re right,” he said. “And I’m sorry that there was no one there to protect you when you needed it.”

Before Jensen could protest that he’d never needed anyone’s help, least of all someone like Jeff’s, Jeff spoke again. “Are you and Danneel here for the NA meeting?”

Jensen scowled. “Oh, what? Because we work in the industry we gotta be addicts, is that what you think?”

“Jensen!” Danni was getting pissed. “Chill. Out.”

Jeff held his hands up. “Just asking. You got here right before an NA meeting, is all.”

 “We’re not addicts,” Danneel said, putting a hand on Jensen’s arm. “But I did want to talk to you about something. Do you have a minute?”

Jeff said that he did and Danneel suggested, rather forcefully, that Jensen might like to wait for her over by the door.

“Sure. I’ll just go check out the books. And before you ask, Jeff,” Jensen’s voice dripped sarcasm, “yes, I can read.”

They actually had some decent books. Jensen had been expecting the kind of books that got adapted into sappy Hallmark movies, but they had classics like _Slaughterhouse 5, Nineteen Eighty-four_ and _Fahrenheit 451_ , all of which he’d enjoyed, as well as modern stuff like _Angels and Demons_ and _Harry Potter_. Jensen was flicking idly through another book by the author of _Slaughterhouse 5_ , when the kid sidled up next to him.

“I’m sorry,” the kid said. “Jeff shouldn’t have yelled at you on my account.”

Jensen glanced up at him. The kid’s eyes were utterly sincere. Jensen sighed. “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t’ve groped you like that. It was a dick move.”

The kid sniggered. “Literally.”

Jensen groaned and smacked himself on the forehead. “Bad pun not intended.”

The kid grinned. “So,” he said, “have you read any of these books?”

Jensen stiffened. “Surprised a hooker would read Vonnegut?”

The kid’s eyes widened. “You’re a…a…prostitute?” He looked so genuinely surprised that for a moment Jensen was floored.

“What did you think I was?” he asked.

The kid shrugged. “A ballet dancer like Danneel?”

Jensen gaped at him. The kid couldn’t be this naïve…could he?

“Danni isn’t a ballet dancer, kid. She’s a stripper.”

“Oh.” The kid looked down at his feet, his bangs falling into his eyes and hiding them from Jensen’s view. “I’m not a kid, you know. And my name’s Jared, remember?”

“Look at me, Jared.”

Jared raised his head and met Jensen’s eyes.

“Jeff really wasn’t kidding when he said you’d led a sheltered life, was he?”

Jared shook his head.

“What are you, Amish or something?”

Jared snorted. “I may as well be, for all I know about the real world. But no. My parents are wealthy. They kept me and my siblings pretty isolated growing up.”

 Jensen stared at him and then shook his head. “Well, I’ll just bet they’re delighted that you’re down here in West Hollywood socializing with hookers and strippers.”

Jared frowned and ran a hand over his chin. “To be honest, I’m not sure they even know I’m here. As far as they know, I’m at the monastery in the Hills, training for the priesthood.”

Once again, Jensen was caught completely off-guard. “You’re gonna be a priest?”

Jared nodded.

“Wow. What a waste.”

Jared’s brow furrowed. “Why makes you say that?”

“Well look at you,” Jensen waved a vague hand at him.

Jared looked down at himself and then quirked his head quizzically.

“You’re hot,” Jensen rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me no-one ever told you that before.”

“Nope. Isolated upbringing, remember?”

“Wow. So you’re like a blank slate?”

Jared grinned. “That men will want to write on,” his eyes widened when Jensen’s jaw dropped. “Oh! No! Not…I mean… It’s a quote. From a song. From _The Sound of Music_. There’s this boy. Rolfe. And he likes Liesel, only he turns out to be a Nazi and anyway—”

Jensen put a hand to his arm. “It’s okay. I’ve seen the movie.”

“You have?”

“Danneel’s a fan. It’s one of her break-up movies.”

Jared frowned. “One of her what?”

“Break-up movies. Apparently I’m the closest thing she has to a best girlfriend,” Jensen rolled his eyes. “So when she gets dumped it’s apparently my job to bring around a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, and watch movies with her. And if you ever tell anyone that, I may have to kill you.”

“Why? It sounds like fun. What’s Ben and Jerry’s?”

Jensen just stared. This kid…Jared…he just kept surprising him.

“Uh, it’s ice cream. You’ve never had Ben and Jerry’s?”

“I’ve never had ice cream. My parents didn’t approve of it.”

“Wow. That’s…that’s fucking tragic.”

Jensen put the book he’d been looking at back on the shelf.

Jared peeked up at him from beneath his bangs. “You can take that book home if you want. We lend them out, you know. You just gotta put your name in the borrower’s register.” He picked the book up and pressed it back into Jensen’s hands.

Before Jensen knew quite what had hit him, he’d written his name in the register and signed an agreement to borrow _Cat’s Cradle_ and return it within six weeks.

 Jared beamed at him. “Now you have to come back,” he looked down at the register. “Jensen.”

“You want me to come back?”

Jared nodded.

“Why?”

“You’re funny. And interesting to talk to.”

“Interesting to talk to. Huh. You know, most people reckon there’s a better use for my mouth.”

Jared stared at him for a moment and then ducked his head.

“You have no idea what I’m talkin’ about, do you?” Jensen said.

“Yes I do,” Jared lifted his head. His face was scarlet and he wouldn’t meet Jensen’s eyes. “They want to kiss you.”

Jensen burst out laughing. He couldn’t help himself. “Wow,” he bent over, hands on his knees as he struggled to control himself. “You are _so_ clueless. I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody as clueless as you before. I don’t know whether I want to put you in a glass case or dirty you up some.” Jensen straightened up, his composure finally regained, and saw that Jeff and Danneel were heading towards them. He glanced at Jared who was scowling like an angry kitten.

“Aw, baby. I wasn’t laughing _at_ you. You’re just…”

“Clueless,” Jared folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah. I know.”

Jensen leaned against the book shelf, ankles crossed and one hand on his hip.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he said, pouting ever so slightly. “Jeff might yell at me again if he thinks you’re mad at me.”

Jared sighed. “I’m not mad.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Everything all right here?” said Jeff.

Danneel, Jensen was annoyed to see, had an armful of brochures. He frowned. This was how they got you.

“What you got there, Danni?” he asked.

Danni grinned and waved the brochures at him. “Jeff’s gonna help me get my GED.”

“Did you talk to him about Gen?”

Gen, it turned out, was in hospital. Jeff had offered to take Danni in to see her tomorrow afternoon so the three of them could have a talk about Gen’s options; see if Gen and Danni were in a position to help each other out.

Jeff, meanwhile, was looking at Jensen as if he were a puzzle to be solved, and it was making him feel uncomfortable. He grabbed a handful of condoms out of the pink plastic bowl on top of the book shelf. “Are these free?”

“They are,” Jeff nodded.

“Cool,” Jensen stuffed the condoms into his pocket, “If I’d’ve known y’all had free rubbers and good books in here I’d’ve come in years ago.”

Jeff looked sort of sad. “Well now that you know, maybe we’ll see you again?”

Jensen winked at Jared and waved the book at him. “Gotta come back. Gotta return this.”


	5. Chapter Four

# Chapter Four

**T** he carpet in Jared’s room was threadbare and his knees were starting to ache, but he didn’t move, just stayed kneeling by his bed with his head bowed, his rosary beads clutched in his hands and his lips moving silently as he murmured his prayers.

He ignored the first knock on his door, but the second knock was accompanied by Sam’s soft concerned voice asking him if he was alright, and that he couldn’t ignore. Setting his rosary beads down beside his Bible, Jared pushed himself upright on stiff, sore legs and opened the door to Sam.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just,” he gestured towards the Bible and rosary beads, and Sam nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry for intruding. I just wanted to let you know that dinner was nearly ready. Give you time to wash up.”

The apartment smelled of onion, herbs and roasting meat and Jared realized that he was hungry, despite his chaotic thoughts and flip-flopping stomach.  

He nodded and thanked Sam, following her out of his room and then heading into the bathroom where he washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face.

Sam had made meatloaf, the same meal that she and the kitchen staff had made for lunch downstairs.  Jeff said grace, which surprised Jared until he remembered that Jeff had been a priest at one time.  Jared mulled it over while they ate, wondering whether Jeff had struggled with his decision to leave the Church, wondering how much of his faith he had held on to.

“Jared? _Jared_?”

“What? Sorry?” Jared looked up into Jeff’s amused face.

“Could you pass the peas, please?”

Jared grabbed the blue ceramic bowl with the peas and handed it to Jeff. “Sorry. I was miles away.”

“It was a big day, huh? A lot to think about.”

Jared nodded.  “Everyone was really nice though. Alona and Rob. Gabriel and Chad from the NA group. Jensen.”

Sam tilted her head to one side. “Jensen?” she asked. “I don’t know that name.”

“Dean,” Jeff said, before Jared could respond. “Of Eliot and Dean fame.”

Sam’s expression softened, her eyes becoming liquid. “Dean came in?”

“Jensen,” Jeff corrected. His nose scrunched up. “Not exactly. Not for himself. He came in with a friend, Danneel? Have you heard of her?”

Sam shook her head. “Is that her real name or a street name?”

“Real name. She says she works as a dancer down at _Whiskey and Rye_.”

“And by dancer,” Jared added, “he means stripper.”

Sam and Jeff both turned to stare at him and Jared flushed. “Jensen explained,” he said.

“You talked to…Jensen?” Sam’s voice sounded wobbly.

Jared lowered his head. “I fell over some chairs,” he confessed. “He helped me up.”

Jeff snorted. “Among other things.”

“And then he borrowed a book,” Jared chose to ignore Jeff’s comment. “He likes to read. He likes Vonnegut.” Not that Jared had a clue who Vonnegut was. The author hadn’t been on his parents’ approved reading list.

Sam looked at Jeff.

 “I talked Danneel into doing the GED workshop,” Jeff said. “She’s keen. She says Jensen got his two years ago, as soon as he turned eighteen.”

Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “We were right,” she whispered.

Jared looked from one to the other and frowned. “I’m sorry. Am I missing something?”

Jeff sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Dean…Jensen…turned up and started working the Boulevard five years ago. He’s been refusing our help ever since.”

Jared’s forehead creased even further. “Five years ago? But that would mean he was…” he met Jeff’s eyes, his own filled with horror.

“Fifteen,” Jeff said. “It would mean he was working the streets at fifteen.”

“We were pretty sure that he was underage,” Sam added, “those first few years.”

“Why didn’t you do something?”

“There was nothing we could do. We let him know we were here, that we could help if he wanted us to. But they have to come to us, Jared. And Dean…Jensen never did. In fact he made it very plain that he wanted nothing to do with us.”

Jared tilted his head to one side and tried to understand what Sam was telling him.

“But…what about the authorities? He was just a child. Surely you could have reported him to Children’s Services?”

“And then what? A lot of our clients have been abused, in their birth families, in foster families, in Group Homes. It’s a sad reality that, for some, the streets have proved the safest place for them, and if they know that we’ll turn them in, they won’t come to us for the help they need.”

Jared finished his meatloaf in silence.

“Would you like another helping?” Sam asked.

Jared shook his head. “Do you think Jensen was abused?” he asked tentatively.

Jeff glanced at Sam before meeting Jared’s earnest expression. “I don’t know,” he said, “but, yeah. Probably.”

When the meal was finished, Jared helped clear the table and wash the dishes and then excused himself. He shut himself in his bedroom and picked up the book with the rainbow-colored cross on the cover. He opened it up and began to read.

-X-

 In all honesty, Jensen didn’t get fucked very often.

Most of his regulars wanted full service, of course, but when it came to casual street clients, he mostly just gave blow jobs: _Fifty bucks, which includes a free rubber. Nope, covered BJs only. No, there’s no time limit, it’s to completion. Of course I can deep throat_. _Money first. Okay, just park over behind that dumpster._

A street trick would drive him to a deserted car park or a cheap motel and shell out for full service, maybe once or twice a week; covered full service; the only type Jensen offered. If they wanted to do him from behind, which most did, he always waited to turn around until they had the rubber on. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

In the early days, Jensen had been fucked bareback more often than not, and he’d viewed STDs as nothing more than an occupational hazard. He tossed the pamphlets that the free clinic gave him whenever he turned up to get another dose of antibiotics, and he bore the doctors’ safe sex lectures with the kind of disdain that only a teenager can muster.

It was Sebastian who had made him change his behavior, because if Jensen stayed clean and healthy, the photographer could get him modeling work. Given his age, it was mostly erotic and fetish work for private collections, but it was warmer, easier and less dangerous than working the streets; and it paid better too. When Seb told him that if he wanted to keep modeling he had to clean up his act and that included no more barebacking, it was a decision Jensen could afford to make.

When he was eighteen, a handful of the guys who’d started turning tricks at around the same time as him were diagnosed HIV positive. Jensen’s blood had turned to liquid ice as he finally appreciated just what a major bullet he’d dodged and ever since, his insistence on no glove, no love was motivated by concern for his own welfare, rather than Seb’s financial incentive. Of course, he did have a client who he did bareback; Sebastian himself. But he trusted Seb. And besides, they both got tested every month and showed each other the results.

Jensen stifled a yawn behind his hand and Seb’s eyes narrowed. He retaliated by pushing Jensen’s thighs right back against his chest and his next thrust was extra hard.  Jensen managed not to wince.

“Am I boring you, darling?”

Jensen ran his tongue across his lips and then grinned. “I think the ceiling needs painting.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened and then his expression softened.  “You do realize that’s the wife’s line?”

“It is? What’s the whore supposed to say then?”

Sebastian cringed, as he always did whenever Jensen referred to himself as a sex worker.  “A whore says ‘aren’t you finished yet?’, a mistress says ‘are you finished already?’, and a wife says—” 

“’I think the ceiling needs painting’.” Jensen concluded the joke. “Right.”

Sebastian sighed. “I’m clearly going to need to step up my game here.” He pulled out and nudged Jensen’s thigh and Jensen obligingly rolled onto his stomach.

“Up,” Sebastian grabbed hold of his hips and tugged and Jensen got up onto his hands and knees, bracing himself as Seb slammed back in.

“There – will – be – no – more – talk – about – ceilings,” Seb said, punctuating each word with a thrust.  

“I think – the sheets – need changing,” Jensen teased.

Seb slapped his ass hard, eliciting a yelp, and then slid his hand around and took hold of Jensen’s cock. “They will do in a minute,” he growled.

Afterwards, Jensen took a shower. When he wandered through to the bedroom from the en suite, toweling his hair, he found his money in its customary position on the bedside table. Only trusted regulars like Seb were allowed to pay after the fact. Jensen knew the photographer harbored a hope that one night he’d find his $400.00 still sitting on the side table after Jensen had left, but it wasn’t going to happen. Jensen always took the money.

When he appeared in the living room, his hair was still damp and he had re-dressed in good jeans and a button down shirt; Jensen wouldn’t dream of wearing his usual street garb to Sebastian’s penthouse.

Seb handed him a beer.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he said “It’s from Belgium and it’s got underlying hints of chocolate and caramel.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was supposed to be _beer_?”

“It is beer.”

Jensen shuddered. “Caramel and chocolate? That’s just wrong, man. That’s even more wrong than that one with peach. Beer should taste like beer.”

Sebastian mock-scowled at him.

“Shut up and try it, heathen.”

In truth, the beer wasn’t bad, but Jensen wasn’t going to admit that to Sebastian. Part of the fun in these ‘educating Jensen’s palate’ sessions, as Sebastian called them, was in giving the man shit.  In the beginning—well, not the _beginning_ beginning, but when Jensen turned eighteen, which was the legal drinking age in England, which was where Seb was from originally—anyway, in the beginning, Sebastian had tried to teach Jensen to be a wine connoisseur, only Jensen had point-blank refused to drink wine, insisting that he was more of a beer man.  Seb had responded by becoming a _Bier-Kultur_ connoisseur and was forever trying to develop Jensen’s tastes.

Jensen drank down half the glass. “I dunno, man,” he said, licking his lips thoughtfully, “It ain’t as good as Bud.”  Which was bullshit, actually. He only said it to watch Seb’s face twitch.

“So, Jen,” Jensen hated people calling him Jen, but he tolerated it from Sebastian, because he could retaliate by calling the man Seb. “Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?”

Jensen’s stomach dropped. He’d been dreading Sebastian bringing this topic up.

“About dinner with your parents?”

Sebastian nodded and Jensen played with the label on his beer.

“I have thought about it. To be honest…I’m not really comfortable with the idea.”

Sebastian nodded again. “Jensen,” he said, “I want—”

Jensen reached out and put his fingers against Seb’s lips. “Don’t. Just…don’t.”

Sebastian grasped Jensen’s fingers with his own and kissed them softly.

“But I don’t understand. You don’t have to keep doing it, you know. You could come and live with me. I’d provide for you, give you everything.”

Jensen squeezed Seb’s hand. “I don’t want that. Like Julia Roberts said, that’s just geography. I like my independence, Seb. I’m not giving that up, not for anyone.”

Sebastian tilted his head to one side, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. “I see. And what if, when you came out of the shower one evening, there was nothing for you on the bedside table. What then?”

Jensen just looked at him until Seb looked away with wounded eyes. “Right. Perhaps you’d better go.” He strode over to the sideboard where he kept the good Scotch and Jensen watched as he took down a crystal tumbler and half-filled it with the amber liquid.

“I like you, man,” Jensen said, his voice rough, “I really do. But you pay me for a ‘boyfriend experience.’ Don’t get confused.”

Sebastian was swirling the Scotch around in the glass. “Hm? Oh right. Yes, of course. Of course. You can see yourself out, I expect?”

Jensen could and he did. The night air was crisp against his face as he walked home. He should probably work a couple more hours before he called it quits, but he wasn’t dressed for it and he couldn’t be bothered to get changed. When Jensen got home, he was going straight to bed with a mug of hot cocoa and lamenting the shitty day he’d had. First he’d pissed off Jeff Morgan, then Danneel had ripped into him about his need to be an asshole to people who were just trying to help and now he’d had to hurt Seb. Just about the only person who seemed to like him today was that weird kid at the drop-in center, Jared. And the really scary thing about that? Jensen had a feeling that he might sort-of like him too.

-X-

Jared knew that not everyone shared the same religious beliefs, and he knew that not everyone was religious.

All of the arguments that he’d heard against premarital sex, using contraception, and homosexuality were predicated on the belief in a God who had decreed those acts were wrong.  If you didn’t believe in God, Jared didn’t see why you’d have a problem with premarital sex, contraception or homosexuality.

But Jared did believe in God. And Jesus. And the Christian faith. And that was why the book _The Rainbow Cross_ was such a revelation. The author was a gay man who wanted to be a Church pastor and in the introduction, he described the grief he had felt when he’d first realized that he was same-sex oriented.  His earliest memories were of being told that he was one of God’s creations, that he was made in God’s image and that God loved him. To then learn that he was ‘broken’, sinful by his very nature, was heartbreaking. He was never able to come to terms with the idea that God wanted him to be alone; after all, didn’t God clearly state in Genesis that it wasn’t good for man to be alone? And yet, because a woman wasn’t a natural partner for him, if he accepted the traditional interpretation of scripture, then he must accept a lifetime without romantic love, without companionship, without a family. No relationship that would be natural for him would be celebrated by his community; he must take up his cross and suffer, knowing that if he ever fell in love, then he must walk away, break his heart and that of his prospective partner, and live in isolation all of his days.

The misery of such a life caused him to question the traditional interpretation of scripture.  He recalled that when Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount he told his followers that you could always tell good teaching from bad teaching. Good trees bear good fruit, Jesus said, and bad trees bear bad fruit. Good trees cannot bear bad fruit and vice versa. If he—the author—was God’s creation and his sexual orientation was gay, and if it wasn’t good for him to be alone, then a traditional interpretation of scripture could not be good teaching. And so he began to analyze that interpretation.

After a lot of study he was able to detail why he believed that modern interpretations of scripture were wrong when it came to viewing homosexuality as a sin. He wrote a paper on the subject and after several successful public speaking engagements, and a lot of online publicity (both good and bad), he was invited by a publishing house to write a book.  

In outlining his stance on the subject, the author claimed that the passages in Leviticus that related to homosexuality could be ignored, because the New Testament stated that the Old Laws (those outlined in Leviticus) did not apply to Christians. He also said, with respect to the passages in the New Testament which supposedly spoke out against homosexuality, that it was important to remember that the Bible had been through many translations. In his opinion, the early interpreters of the ancient texts had got the meanings of some words wrong, and these mistakes were compounded by each subsequent translation. He was able to offer alternative interpretations, substantiated by translations of various words and phrases that had been used in other, secular works. All the New Testament really said, the author argued, was that same-sex relationships weren’t the custom in the region at the time and they were no more or less frowned upon by the Bible than a man having long hair, which was also described as not the custom in the region at the time.

Jared found the author’s arguments persuasive and he knew, long before he’d finished reading the book, that he couldn’t be part of a system that was so damaging to so many of God’s creations. Jared found the idea of insisting that some people must reject love and live alone abhorrent—he’d read _The Rainbow Cross’s_ introduction with tears in his eyes, his heart aching for the fear, grief and loneliness the author must have felt as a young man.

Early evening turned to late night, and late night turned to the early hours of the morning, while Jared read. Sam had knocked on his door at some point and told him that she and Jeff were going out to run the evening coffee van for a few hours. Jared was still reading when they came home and went to bed.  Finally, he closed the book, put it on his bedside table, next to his Bible and rosary beads, and wiped away the tears in his eyes.

The book —and the day—had given him a lot to think about.

In many ways, he could empathize with the young author. When Alona had told Jared she could set him up with a girl he’d felt scared and panicky. When Jensen had hauled him to his feet and then groped his privates, he’d felt scared…and more turned on than he’d ever felt before.

Jared might be naïve, but he wasn’t stupid. That meant something.

Or maybe it didn’t.

Jared had never been touched in a sexual way by another person before. Maybe he would’ve gotten half hard, no matter who had groped him.  With Jensen, it had all happened so quickly that he hadn’t had time to panic. What if someone—Rob or maybe Chad—yes, Chad seemed a more likely candidate. What if Chad had offered to set Jared up on a date with Jensen? Jared tried to imagine it and his stomach fluttered with something that very definitely wasn’t panic.

Jared got off the bed and began to pace.  What about Danneel? She was very attractive. What about if Chad offered to set him up on a date with Danneel? Jared tried to imagine it and felt vaguely alarmed. Then he imagined Jensen seeing him out on a date with Danneel and…no. It just felt all wrong.

It was beginning to look as if Father Michael was a very wise man. Jared knew very little about the big wide world, but more importantly, he knew even less about himself. It seemed that he had an awful lot to learn about who he was, and what God wanted for him, before he would be anywhere near ready to take his vows. It was both frightening and exhilarating.

-X-

Jared woke up with a hard-on and shame flooded through his veins. He covered his face with his hands and thought about the flabby, crusty skin on Nanny’s elbow and the time Dosu vomited on him, until his traitorous dick went flaccid. 

It was ten past eight. Jared’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the green glowing figures on the clock and he scrambled out of bed, tripping over his feet in his haste. He hurried out of his room wearing nothing but sweatpants and a tee-shirt and found the apartment empty. He closed his eyes and cursed softly. What must Sam and Jeff think of him, sleeping in so late?  He shuffled toward the kitchen and saw a note in round, loopy handwriting propped against the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the dining table.

_Dear Jared,_

_You were up so late reading the material that Jeff gave you that we didn’t have the heart to wake you this morning. I hope you are now well-rested. Please help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast (or brunch, depending on when you wake up!) and then feel free to either continue with your reading or come to lend us a hand downstairs, whichever you would prefer.  There is fresh coffee in the pot._

_Love, Sam._

Jared felt a rush of warmth for Sam. She was such a loving, caring person and in a lot of ways, she reminded him of his own mom. His mom was away a lot for work and he’d mostly been raised by Nanny—who was strict and demanding and not at all soft and cuddly—but on those rare occasions when Dad was working and Mom had stayed at home with them by herself, she gave them a lot of time, talking and laughing with them, playing games, listening and hugging.  Both Nanny and Dad said she spoiled them and there was always an argument when Dad came home, with Nanny and Dad siding against Mom. For Jared, and for his siblings, those times with Mom were the happiest part of their childhood.

For just a moment, Jared allowed himself to wonder what it would’ve been like to have been adopted by Sam and Jeff instead; to have grown up here, helping his parents to work with the less fortunate; to have been a worldly kid, who knew what was what, and who was part of a vibrant, eclectic community. As much as he loved his parents, Jared’s heart ached for the life that could have been his and he regretted deeply the time he’d spent closed off and apart from things.

Jared crossed to the coffee pot and lifted it from the metal ring where it was keeping warm. He breathed the delicious aroma of the hot, dark liquid and decided to try it. Jeff and Sam seemed to drink a lot of coffee, so he figured it had to be nice.  He pulled an olive green mug from the cupboard and filled it two thirds full with coffee. He sniffed at it and then took a sip.

Ugh. Coffee was horrible. Tart and…ugh…bitter. It smelled so much better than it tasted. How could Jeff enjoy this? Jared eyed off the sugar jar. Sam put cream and sugar in her coffee. Maybe he should do the same?  He added a teaspoon of sugar to his coffee and then got the milk out of the fridge and filled the cup to the brim. He took a sip. Hmm. He added another spoonful of sugar. Sipped. Added another spoonful of sugar. Much better.

He popped some bread in the toaster and then went and flicked through his books, looking for something he could read while he ate breakfast.

_Gay Sex_. Jared froze with his hand on the cover. Could he? The thought of reading it was scary; a herd of elephants stampeded through his stomach at the mere idea, but…

But he had to know. Even though the thought of Sam or Jeff seeing him reading it, frightened the hell out of him. He picked the book up and then picked out a few others as well and took them all back out into the kitchen. He put peanut butter on his toast and then put another two slices of bread into the toaster.  And then he picked up _Gay Sex_ and began to read.

Jared decided to put grape jelly on his next couple pieces of toast. They’d never been allowed jelly at home, but boy was it good.  And this coffee? Now that he’d added sugar and cream, Jared had to confess that it wasn’t bad at all. He made himself another cup and then figured that he should probably put the jelly back in the pantry. Ooh look. A packet of Oreos. They’d never been allowed to have cookies at home and Jared had really enjoyed the few that Sam had put on a plate for him yesterday. Surely Sam and Jeff wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to one or two today?

Fifteen minutes later Jared was reading about prostate stimulation and sporting a hard-on so massive, he was embarrassed to get up from the table. The Oreo packet was empty.

Jared’s eyes fell upon _Exploring_ _Healthy Adolescent Sexuality_. According to that book, masturbation was a normal, healthy part of sexuality and nothing to be ashamed of. And here, there was no one who was going to paddle his butt for doing it. Also? He was feeling a little reckless right now. Jared thought that maybe the coffee and the cookies had something to do with that. Maybe this was why his parents had banned cookies, candies and drinks containing caffeine.  Jared ran a hand through his hair and grinned to himself. He felt kind of awesome. Like he could do anything. He giggled and then clamped a hand over his mouth. Okay. No more cookies or coffee for Jared. Perhaps it was time to have a shower and get ready.

The water was hot and Jared lathered himself slowly. Closing his eyes, he lowered a hand and began to lightly stroke himself. His already-hard penis strained and jerked and Jared took it firmly in hand, drawing his fist up and down the entire length and flicking his thumb across the head at every pass.  He groaned at the intense feeling of pleasure, tucking his bottom lip in behind his teeth as pinpricks of light sparked beneath his closed eyelids. He fisted himself harder and faster and used his other hand to stroke his balls, his fingers straying down to rub across his perineum, the tips occasionally tapping and stroking against his hole as Jared tried to find the courage to push a finger up inside his ass and chase that magic bundle of nerves that the book had talked about.  He couldn’t do it, though. He was having enough trouble fighting off the feelings of guilt and shame that were his automatic response to the mere thought of masturbation. Sodomizing himself with a finger was just a dirty-wrong-sinful step too far and Jared couldn’t take it, not yet. It wasn’t long, though, before he felt his balls start to draw up and he groaned as he hurtled to his inevitable, unstoppable climax. As his orgasm rushed out of him, a pair of big green eyes and full, bowed lips forced their way into his imagination and Jared squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, bit his bottom lip harder and wondered how he’d ever be able to look Jensen in the eye again. 


	6. Chapter Five

# Chapter Five

**S** am was talking to a dark-haired girl with tattooed sleeves when Jared walked into the drop-in center. She smiled at him and gestured him over, finishing off with the tattooed girl and directing her to one of the computers.

“Hi, Honey,” she said, enfolding him in a quick hug. “How are you doin’ today? You feelin’ good and well rested?”

Jared told her that he was, but couldn’t hold back his blush when he thought about _why_ he was feeling so good and relaxed.

Sam cocked her head to one side quizzically, and Jared broke eye contact, letting his gaze roam anywhere but near Sam.

“How can I help out today?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest and hunching down.

Sam was all business. “Thought you could be my shadow. I’m Front of House today, floatin’ around the place, greeting visitors, answerin’ questions,” she pointed over her shoulder at a small desk, piled high with manila folders, books and stacks of papers. Half buried under the paperwork was a computer and off to one side, there was a small ink jet printer. “I’ll be doin’ paperwork too,” Sam grimaced. “Figured I’d get you up to speed on the administrative side of running an NG, NFP O as well.”

Jared’s eyes widened. “An Engy…what?”

Sam laughed, a full-throated belly laugh, which made him feel like he was part of some in-joke and not as if he’d just asked a silly question.

“A Non-Government, Not-For-Profit Organization. An NG, NFP O. We love our acronyms in the social services sector.”

For the next hour Jared sat with Sam while she typed thank you emails to benefactors and begging letters to potential donors, entered details of their income and expenditure onto a spreadsheet and worked on budgets.  Occasionally Sam got up to help someone who came in looking for information, or who was having trouble with one of the computers.  As the hour progressed and Jared became more and more bored with bookkeeping and budgeting, he started to take over more of the Front of House functions, jumping to his feet to provide assistance whenever anyone walked in the door. At first, he was a little shaky, but he’d heard Sam give her spiel and go through the programs and services that _Per Vias Rectas_ provided enough times and before long he was chatting confidently to people, handing out brochures, signing people up for programs and loaning them books.

When Jared slid back into his seat next to Sam, having just signed a new client up to NA, Sam gave him a wide smile and patted him on the arm.

“You’re a natural,” she said. “You’re really good with people; friendly and encouraging.  People like you. And they want you to like them.”

Jared lowered his eyes, embarrassed by the praise. “I’m just being myself,” he said.

The doorbell jangled again and Jared looked up as half a dozen people trailed through the door.

“We’ve got the GED program this morning,” Sam said. “They’ll be using those tables over there,” she pointed and Jared saw Jeff, who’d been working in the kitchen all morning, laying out papers and pens.

“On it!” Jared bounded over to the door and greeted the new arrivals enthusiastically, confirming they were here for the GED and then directing them to the appropriate tables.

He turned at the sound of more jangling bells and broke into a smile when he spotted Danneel hovering just inside the doorway, her arms folded protectively around an oversized purse that she had slung diagonally over one shoulder.

“Danni!” he hurried across to her and then pulled up short, the smile freezing on his face, when Jensen walked through the door behind her.

He swallowed and turned his gaze back to Danneel.

“Great to see you again. The GED group’s over here.” He showed her through and then took a deep breath and attempted to center himself before heading back to where Jensen was lounging near the bookshelves like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. He was wearing tight black jeans, a pair of black leather slip-ons and a deep burgundy button-down shirt. His hair was artfully tousled in a ‘just got out of bed’ kind of way and he was holding the book he’d borrowed yesterday in one hand. Jared sort of wanted to throw himself at Jensen and rub up against him like a giant cat. Oh goodness. That was so inappropriate. He blushed; and then blushed even more when Jensen smirked at him. Dear Lord. He was so out of his depth here. He didn’t know _anything_. And Jensen? Jensen knew _everything_. Jensen was a professional. Jensen was sex on legs. Jensen was…suddenly right in front of him with a bemused expression on his face. How did Jared manage to cross the room so fast? How did Jensen manage to make leaning against a book shelf look so erotic?

“Jared, right?”

Jared jerked upright and snapped his mouth closed at the sound of Jensen’s amused drawl.

He nodded vigorously.  Talking. Talking would be good. He’d been doing it all morning. He could do it now.

“Hi,” he squeaked.  Oh my goodness. He squeaked. How humiliating.

“So, ah,” oh thank goodness, his normal voice. “You look nice.”

_You look nice._ Seriously? That’s what he comes up with?

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “Thank you,” he said. And shifted a little, causing his legs to fall slightly wider apart, and Jared wasn’t looking at the bulge in the front of his tight jeans. Was. Not. Looking. “You’re lookin’ pretty sexy yourself.”

Jared’s eyes widened. He was wearing black dress pants and a white button down shirt. His hair was completely unstyled. There was nothing at all sexy about him and he told Jensen as much. “I wouldn’t know sexy if it fell on top of me.”

Jensen made a bitten-off, strangled sort of noise and straightened up, half turning away from Jared and surreptitiously palming the front of his pants. Jared realized, with a strange sense of wonder, that he was having the same effect on Jensen that Jensen was having on him. Which was. Weird. And maybe a little scary.

If there was one thing that Jared was good at, though, it was repressing his sexual urges. So he battened down his sudden need to press Jensen back against the book shelf and moved the conversation on to safer territory.

He looked at the book in Jensen’s hand. “Have you finished already?” he asked. He was surprised when Jensen groaned. “Not yet,” he muttered, “but I don’t think it’d take much.”

Jared frowned. “The book. Have you finished the book?”

Wide green eyes peered up at him. “Yeah. Finished it last night.”

“That’s impressive.”

Jensen tensed. “For a hooker?”

Jared shook his head. “For anyone. It’d take me at least a week to read that.”

Jensen stared at him for a minute and then his eyes crinkled and he gave Jared a bright, genuine smile. “Yeah, but you wanna be a priest,” he said, “so you clearly aren’t the sharpest tool in the box.”

“Hey! I was a straight A student, I’ll have you know!”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Probably not hard in whatever silver-spoon-feeding, Prep school your rich parents sent you to.”

“I was home-schooled.”

Jensen shook his head. “Damn. You weren’t kidding when you said they kept you isolated. That must’ve sucked.”

Jared shrugged. “I didn’t know any different.”

There was a moment of awkward silence and then Jensen cleared his throat and held the book out. “Well, I guess I better give you this back. And uh…I’m gonna wait for Danni, but you probably got stuff you should be doin’, right?”

They moved to the bench that served as a library counter and Jared checked the book that Jensen had borrowed back into stock and then tossed it into the box of books waiting to be re-shelved.

“Feel free to browse,” he told Jensen, “I’m gonna go and ask Sam what she’d like me to do next, but give me a holler if you find something else you’d like to borrow.”

Jensen said that he would and Jared went back to Sam who was still battling the budgets over at the main desk.

“So,” she said, glancing up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “You and Jensen seem to be getting along well.”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. He’s…” he didn’t know how to explain the way that Jensen affected him, so he settled for saying, “he’s not like anybody I’ve ever met.”

Sam chuckled. “Perish the thought of someone like Jensen in that monastery!”

Jared grinned. “Do you know Brother Paul?” he asked.

Sam’s face sobered. “Yeah. I don’t like the man. He’s a bigot. He hides behind scripture to cover up the fact that he’s filled with hatred and intolerance.”

Jared tilted his head to one side. He’d never really thought of it that way, had always just assumed that Brother Paul was more righteous than everyone else, but Sam could well be right. His zealotry could be nothing more than a front for his own inadequacies.

“We weren’t close,” he told Sam. “He didn’t approve of me. Said I was too loud and boisterous. And every time I did something wrong, he would tell me how back in the day I would’ve been whipped for it and it was a shame the whip had been banned because I deserved it.”

Sam shuddered, her face etched with revulsion. “What a sick man.”

“Imagine him and Jensen in the same room?”

Sam shook her head. “It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Yeah. But my money’d be on Jensen. He’s smart, Sam. And not afraid to speak his mind.”

They both looked across to where Jensen was rifling through the box of books to be re-shelved. Sam poked Jared in the side.

“You know what,” she said, “those books really do need to go back on the shelves.”

Jared nodded and stood watching Jensen.

“Well?” Sam whacked his thigh. “What are you waiting for? Get onto that re-shelving. Oh and Jared? Don’t forget, we’re a volunteer run organization. We’re happy for anyone and everyone to help out around here.”

-X-

Jensen had _reasons_ for being at the drop-in center again.  Good reasons.  Reasons that had nothing whatsoever to do with a certain doe-eyed, floppy-haired young man with big hands and big feet, who was quite obviously going to grow into himself in the next few years and turn into a muscular giant; a big strong man who would be perfectly capable of manhandling Jensen just the way he liked it on occasion, but who would never do so with unwanted force or cruelty, because Jensen could tell that he was always going to be a kind-hearted puppy dog, no matter how big he got. Jensen stared sightlessly at the paperback that he’d dug out of the returns bin as he imagined a muscle-bound Future-Jared pinning him naked to his bed, those big hands wrapped as tight as handcuffs around his wrists as he lowered his—

_“Jensen!”_

“Fuck me!” Jensen started sharply and dropped the book he was holding. Jared – Present-Jared – was back by his side.

“Uh…what?” the younger man said, his face going a violent shade of crimson.

“You scared the crap outta me. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

Jared’s eyes widened and he tilted his head. “I didn’t sneak,” he protested. “I walked. You were just…deep in thought.”

Jensen bent down swiftly and picked up the book he’d dropped. What the hell was wrong with him? It was obvious that being in the company of a gay hooker made Jared feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, and stirring guys who reacted to him like that by flirting with them had been Jensen’s standard modus operandi for years. But just now, he’d been seriously fantasizing about the undoubtedly straight guy who was training for the priesthood—as if his life wasn’t fucked up enough without him turning into a walking cliché. He was a hooker for Christ’s sake, why was he even thinking about sex when there wasn’t a pay check in sight?

“So,” said Jared. “You’re gonna wait for Danneel?”

Jensen nodded.

“For the whole hour?”

Jensen worried at his bottom lip and ran a hand across the back of his neck. Reasons. He had reasons. Right. “We’re going with Jeff to meet up with that girl Gen—you know, the one who’s in hospital—after they’ve finished the class. Figured I may as well hang around here rather than walk home.”

Jared beamed. “I’m glad. It gives me someone to talk to while I re-shelve these books.”

“You want me to give you a hand?”

The offer was out of Jensen’s mouth before he even realized that he was going to make it, but it was worth it to see Jared’s face light up again.

“That’d be great.”

They divided the books into two piles, those whose author’s surnames fell in the A to K range and those whose author’s surnames fell in the L to Z range. They chatted amicably while they sorted the books, about everything and nothing, and on more than one occasion Jensen caught Jared staring at his lips; his hands; his groin. Interesting. So maybe Jared didn’t keep blushing because it _embarrassed_ him that Jensen was gay and a hooker. Jensen contrived to drop another book and then watched in the window’s reflection as Jared checked out his ass when he bent down to pick it up. Huh. Well that changed things. All of Jared’s reactions made sense of a different sort now. Clearly Jared wasn’t as straight as Jensen had been assuming. In which case, he was probably so deep in the closet that he was neighbors with Aslan; because Jared was training to be a priest.

If Jared had been…well, anyone else, Jensen would have taken advantage of the man’s obvious interest in him and flirted and worked it until Jared was handing over a fifty dollar bill and Jensen was going to his knees in the men’s room or the alley out back. But then anyone else would have been leering at his _cock-sucking_ lips and _tight_ ass and Jared…Jensen wasn’t even sure if he was aware that he was looking. It never took Jensen long to figure out if another person was interested in him sexually; call it an occupational hazard; and he was definitely getting those vibes from Jared, whether Jared was aware he was sending them or not.

“Hey, Jare?”

_Jare?_ Really? He was giving the kid a nickname now?

Jared seemed ridiculously pleased, looking up at him with a small smile twisting his lips.

“Mind if I ask you a personal question?

Jared said that he didn’t mind, so Jensen asked him why he wanted to be a priest.

The answer wasn’t what he’d expected to hear:

Jared had grown up on a large property in the Hollywood Hills and that property bordered a monastery.  The grounds of the monastery held fields and vineyards and farm animals and a small wooded area, and Jared and his siblings had been sneaking over the wall to play in it since they were small. Of course, going out of their own yard was strictly forbidden and several hard spankings had put his siblings off the idea of exploring the monastery further, but Jared found that he couldn’t stay away and he went back alone, time and time again. Sometimes he was chased off by Brother Paul or one of the other monks, sometimes his siblings weren’t able to cover for him and his transgression was discovered by Nanny and he was punished. But other times, he was able to enjoy hours of solitude and tranquility. Hours where he could roam and explore to his heart’s content, running through the woods, singing loudly and badly out in the fields, playing with the animals; just being himself without censure.  One day, when he was fourteen, he’d been kneeling in the middle of a field, his hands clasped in his lap and his face turned up to the warmth of the sun, when a hand had clamped down hard on his shoulder. He’d been hauled to his feet by an angry Brother Paul, dragged down to the monastery building itself and into an office.

“This is the boy who keeps trespassing, Father Michael,” Brother Paul said.

Father Michael was an imposing figure, sitting behind an ornately carved mahogany desk, in a high collared black robe with a large crucifix around his neck. He steepled his hands in front of his face and examined Jared in a way that made him feel like a bug under a microscope.

“What was he doing this time?” Father Michael asked.

“He was in the top paddock.”

“Doing what?”

Brother Paul frowned. “Nothing. Just…kneeling there. Looking up at the sky.”

“Were you praying, son?” Father Michael asked Jared.

Was he? He’d been hoping that Mom would come home soon; that she’d get to spend some time with him and his siblings without Dad or Nanny around to spoil things. He’d been hoping fervently. Maybe that was praying?

He nodded his head slightly.

Father Michael continued to study him. “Why do you keep coming here?” he asked finally.

Jared shrugged, unsure how to explain himself. “I guess,” he said hesitantly, “I just feel…called—” Father Michael drew breath sharply and Jared stopped. He’d been going to say that he felt called by the wooded area and the quiet open spaces, but he sensed that ‘called’ was the important word, so he shut his mouth and looked pleadingly at the priest, hoping for clemency.

Father Michael had driven him home that day, rather than letting him go back over the wall, and the look on Nanny’s face when she’d opened the door to Jared and the priest caused Jared’s butt to clench in anticipation of agony.  When Father Michael had asked to come in, so that he could discuss Jared’s spiritual devotion and calling to the cloth, no one had been more surprised than Jared. Nanny had been delighted; his father even more so, and Jared had been happy enough to visit the monastery regularly for catechism classes and religious discussions with Father Michael, because it got him out of the house. Over time he came to genuinely respect Father Michael and to enjoy his company. His religious beliefs grew and solidified and becoming a priest himself seemed the next logical step.

When Jared finished telling his tale, Jensen just stared at him. And then his tongue poked out from between his lips and he swiped briefly at the seam of his mouth. “So basically,” he said, “you lied to a priest about having a ‘calling’ and then went along with the lie because it got you out of a stifling, controlling house? _That’s_ why you’re gonna be a priest?”

Jared shook his head. “Okay. That’s…not entirely…inaccurate. But I did feel drawn to the place. And I do have beliefs. I dunno, Jensen. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Jensen noted his use of the past tense. “I get it,” he said. “Sometimes, when you’re in a bad situation, you’ll do anything to get out of it. Even risk the devil you don’t know on the off-chance it might not be as bad as the devil you do know.”

Jared sighed and picked up an armful of books. “It’s not like that.”

 “No? Then maybe you’re just using the priesthood to hide.”

Jared frowned. Father Michael had suggested the same thing. “From what?”

“Catholic priests aren’t allowed to have sex, right? And your family’s pretty religious. Maybe you just don’t wanna face the reality of who, gender-wise, you want to have sex with?”

Jared blanched and hugged the books even tighter against his chest. “I…no. If I thought…if I was sure that…then I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t take my final vows if… the truth is, you’re the only person my own age who’s not a relative that I’ve spent any time with. And I like you. But I don’t know what I’m feeling. Or why. Maybe it’s just because you…and no one’s ever touched me like that before and I… I’m sorry,” Jared’s mouth clamped shut and he spun away, heading towards the shelves with his books.

Jensen stared after him, trying to sort through the rush of pained half sentences he’d just had hurled at him, and then he started after Jared and put a hand to his shoulder. Jared flinched.

Jensen dropped his hand. “You’ve never been in a sexual situation before because of your upbringing,” he said quietly, “And then I groped you and you didn’t hate it. Only I’m a guy. And I make a living from turning people on and getting them off. So you’re not sure what it means; whether it means anything. Not sure whether you’re gay or just ridiculously inexperienced. Does that about sum it up?”

Jared nodded.

Jensen leaned back against a book shelf. “So, maybe you should try hanging out with some straight, non-hooker people your own age? See if it takes?” It pained Jensen to say it, but it was what Jared needed. He’d gone from one extreme to the other here – from an environment of virgins to one of whores – and what he needed more than anything was some normality.

Jared nodded again. “But I’d like to hang out with you too,” he said hesitantly.          

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that for a to-be-negotiated sum of money, I’m a sure thing?”

Jared’s already pale face became almost translucent. “That’s not what I… I didn’t mean. I don’t want. I want us to be friends.”

Jensen had regretted his words almost as soon as they’d left his mouth, but at the same time he’d needed to know whether Jared saw him as a potential friend or just someone to experiment on while he sorted out his sexuality. He’d hung his head when Jared started stuttering, but when Jared proclaimed that he wanted them to be friends, he lifted his head and met the younger man’s eyes with a determined expression. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

-X-

When Danni finished her GED class, she came across to where Jensen was re-shelving books and explained that Jeff had to help out with the lunch rush before he could take them to see Gen in the hospital.

“How long’s that gonna take?” Jensen grumbled. He would’ve been a lot more irritated if he hadn’t been enjoying Jared’s company so much.

Danneel shrugged. “A couple of hours, maybe.”

“A couple of hours?” Okay, now he was irritated. “He couldn’t’ve mentioned that earlier? I could’ve gone straight home!”

“Oh, I dunno, Jay,” Danneel said coolly, her eyes sliding across to Jared. “Looked to me like you were enjoying yourself plenty.”

Jensen huffed. “Alright, let’s go. We’ll come back at two.”

Danneel shook her head and told him that Jeff had asked her to stay and help with lunch and that she’d agreed to.

“You’re welcome to stay too, Jensen,” Jared said, “I’ll be helping out as well. It’ll be fun.”

Jensen snorted. “Yeah. Right. I seriously doubt Jeff wants someone like me serving food.”

Jared grabbed hold of his upper arm and started to drag him towards the kitchen. “Let’s ask him. Jeff! You don’t mind if Jensen stays and helps out too, do you?”

Jeff turned and fixed his kind, brown eyes on Jensen. “Of course not. We’re always happy to have new volunteers.”

Jensen’s lips thinned. “You’re not scared I’ll give your clients AIDS?”

Jeff frowned. “You look pretty healthy to me. But if you are HIV positive, I’ll ask you to refrain from spitting or ejaculating into the food. In fact, best if you don’t do that, period.”

Jensen’s jaw dropped, but before he could think up a suitable reply, Jeff had turned to Jared. “You can show them where the aprons, hairnets and latex gloves are.”

“Kinky,” said Jensen. “You know I think I saw a porno that started like this once.”

 Jared blushed, Danneel smacked him and Jeff just laughed. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” he said.

The aprons, Jensen didn’t mind so much, but the hairnets were hideous and the latex gloves reminded him unpleasantly of a fisting job he’d once done.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered to Danneel. “Does my hair still look alright under this stupid thing?”

Danneel snorted and shook her head. “You are _so_ gay.”

“Jared, my man!”

A skinny, untidy blond man slapped Jared’s back enthusiastically. “How’s it hangin’ bro?”

“Chad,” Jared held out his hand and then looked perplexed when Chad tried to execute some kind of complicated hand shake. “How are you?”

But Chad’s gaze had left him and was fixed firmly over Jared’s shoulder, where Danneel was snapping on her latex gloves.

“You,” he stretched out an arm and pointed at Danneel. “I’ve seen you at _Whiskey and Rye._ You’re a stripper!”

Jensen stepped smoothly in front of Danni, screening her from the blond’s view. “And you’re a douchebag,” he said.

Chad stared at him for a moment and then his eyes widened. “I’ve seen _you_ on the Boulevard. You’re a hooker!”

Jensen drew himself up to his full height. “And you’re still a douchebag. Are we gonna have a problem here?”

Chad frowned and looked genuinely confused. “No. I’m Chad.”

Jensen faked a grin. “Yeah,” he said, “I got that. When Jared called you Chad.”

Chad nodded, as if Jensen had said something profound. “Right. I feel you. And just so you know, I have absolutely no filter between my brain and my mouth. I don’t mean to be an asshole, it just happens.”

 Chad turned out to be alright for a douchebag. He ran his mouth more than anyone Jensen had ever known, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from leering at Danneel, even after she slapped him for it, but he treated gap-toothed homeless old men with the same respect that he treated Jeff Morgan—which is to say with none whatsoever—and he was honest and open and said what he thought. Jensen found that he respected him for that, just a little. He could’ve done without the constant stream-of-consciousness verbal diarrhea, complete with leering and innuendo, but all in all Chad wasn’t too bad.

Somehow, as Jensen, Danneel, Jared, Chad and Jeff stood side by side serving chicken and biscuits, the talk turned to how old you’d been the first time you had your first drink of alcohol. Chad and Danneel had been fifteen, Jeff had been eighteen and now everyone was looking expectantly at Jensen.  He slopped a portion of the chicken casserole down onto a plate and handed it across the counter to the young red-haired woman waiting on the other side. Jensen had seen her around—had seen her begging; had seen her turning tricks; had seen her sitting beneath the overpass, her pupils dilated and her eyes bloodshot, a burnt can clutched in her hand. As he passed her the plate he could see that her hands were shaking and he didn’t like her chances of keeping down the meal.  Jeff noticed too and his concerned gaze followed her to a table, where she found a seat as far away from anyone else as she could manage. Jeff met Jensen’s eyes briefly and then turned away, calling out to the kitchen, “Alona, we’re running low on plates out here!”

“So what about you Jensen?” said Chad.

Jensen frowned. What about what?

“How old were you? When you had your first drink.”

“Sixteen,” Jensen lied.

He’d actually been nine the night his father had thought it would be hilarious to force Tequila shots down his son’s throat until he puked. He turned to Jared, wanting the attention off him as soon as possible.

“How about you Jared? How old were you when you had your first drink?”

Jared shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. “I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.”

“Da fuck?” said Chad.

“I _am_ only eighteen,” Jared said reasonably.

“No, no, no,” Chad shook his head. “This travesty cannot be allowed to stand. You’re in your first year of seminary school, so you’re basically a college freshman, right?”

Jared nodded and Chad looked triumphant. “It is a rite of passage for you to go out with your buddies and get absolutely shit-faced, sometime this year.  It’s in the American constitution—”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” Jensen interjected.

Chad scowled at him. “It’d be un-American not to,” he stated firmly. “And I for one, am not about to let a friend down like that. We’re going out. Tonight.”

-X-

Jensen hated hospitals. He hated the sterile whiteness, the constant brightness and the antiseptic smell. Most of all he hated the faux-caring expressions of the staff, the way they plastered on an I-give-a-damn face while they calmly tore your world apart with carefully-chosen, yet blunt, words.

He owed Danneel a lot, or he wouldn’t be here now, leaning with his back against the wall of Gen’s hospital room, arms folded across his chest, trying to look tough and not like a scared kid who was about to hyperventilate.

Jeff and Danni were sitting by Gen’s bed in the two visitors’ chairs. They were talking to her in the low voices that horse breakers used when they didn’t want to spook a particularly skittish colt. Pellegrino sure did a number on her. Even if Danni could get her a job at _Whiskey and Rye_ she wouldn’t be able to start working for a while, not with her face bruised and swollen the way it was.

Gen huffed gently and pulled herself more upright. Ignoring Jeff and Danni, she looked straight at Jensen, her puffy mouth twisting into a tight smile.

“I’ve seen you on the beat,” she said. “You’re Dean, right?”

Jensen nodded.

“Come’ere,” she gestured him forward and patted her bed.

“I’m good where I am.”

“Pussy. I wanna talk t’you. Don’t wanna shout. Shoutin’ hurts.”

“C’mon, Jay,” Danni moved her chair sideways and beckoned Jensen forward.

“Jay?” Gen queried.

Jensen sighed and moved to her side, settling himself gingerly right on the edge of the bed. “Jensen. Dean’s just a working name.”

Gen nodded slowly and then winced. “Fuckin’ Mark,” she said.

“He really did a number on you, huh?”

Gen snorted. “It’s not the first time. It isn’t even the worst time,” she eyed Jensen critically. “Alastair talked about you, you know. While he was cutting me. Said you cried real pretty.” She flipped the hospital blanket off her legs and slid them slightly apart before pulling up her hospital gown. The inside of one thigh was carved with pentagrams and other bizarre symbols. The other thigh was still tightly bandaged.

“Fuck,” Jensen breathed. “At least he only cut lines into me.”

Gen covered herself again. “Yeah, but he was plannin’ on carving you into a whole new creature. You would’ve been singin’ soprano, if your boy Eliot hadn’t turned up and beaten him unconscious.”

Jensen shuddered. “I was stupid,” he admitted. “But I learned my lesson.”

“Yeah,” Genevieve looked thoughtful. “I think it’ll be a while before I let a trick tie me up again.”

“If I can get you a job at _Whiskey and Rye_ ,” Danni interrupted, “you can stop hooking completely. Dancing’s a lot safer.”

Gen flicked her gaze to Danneel and then back to Jensen. “What’s with this? Jeff I get; he’s a do-gooder. What’s she? Some kind of stripper with a heart of gold?”

Jensen grinned. “She’s one of my best friends. And her roommate just ran out on her so she’s lookin’ for someone to share the rent. You move in with Danni and get a job at the strip club and you won’t have to rely on Mark. Seems like you guys could help each other out.” 

Gen nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve stripped before. Gonna need a couple weeks though,” she gestured at her face. “Not lookin’ my best right now.”

Jeff leaned forward. “I’ll have a word with the proprietor. Get him to hold the job open for you.”                                                                 

Gen settled back against her pillow and tipped her head to stare pensively at the ceiling. “You know, my momma always used to say ‘better the devil you know’, which didn’t work out so well for her and hasn’t been workin’ out so well for me either. So,” she flicked her eyes back to Danni, “I guess you got yourself a new roommate.”


	7. Chapter Six

# Chapter Six

**J** ared didn’t have many clothes. A couple pairs of black pants, a handful of white tee-shirts and white button-down shirts, a couple pairs of old jeans that were strictly for working outside in the fields or with the animals, and an oversized hoodie or two.  He had no idea what was appropriate to wear to a bar, but he didn’t think that anything in his wardrobe was going to be suitable.

 Pulling on the jeans that didn’t have any holes in them and a white tee-shirt, Jared padded bare-foot out to the living room. Jeff was sitting in the middle of the sofa watching television, his feet up on the coffee table.  Sam was sitting cross-legged in an armchair, a colorful patchwork quilt spread across her lap as she sewed another square onto it.

“Hey,” Jeff greeted him with a smile. “So where are you and Chad off to tonight?”

Sam looked up sharply but didn’t say anything.

Jared cleared his throat. “Uh, a bar, I think.”

“Will you boys be drinking?” Sam asked.

Jared shrugged. “Chad wants to introduce me to the wonders of beer. So I guess so. Don’t worry, though. I’ll only have one.”

Sam’s mouth was a firm line. “You don’t need to have even one if you don’t want to. You should never let anyone talk you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

Jared nodded. “I won’t. I promise,” he turned his gaze to Jeff. “Um, I’m not really sure what’s appropriate to wear to a bar and most of my clothes are really conservative. Are these jeans alright?”

Jeff laughed. “Don’t ask me, kid. When we go out, I just wear what Sam tells me to.”

“Sam?” Jared turned his beseeching eyes to her.

Sam put her quilt to one side and climbed to her feet. “Reckon a nice button down over the top of that tee-shirt would be about right. Wait here.” She disappeared into their bedroom and Jared shuffled anxiously.

“She’s right you know,” Jeff said. “You make sure you don’t let Chad talk you into doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“I won’t, Jeff. But I do want to do some of the things that normal young people do. Go to a bar, listen to some music, have a beer. Maybe talk to some nice girls. Jensen said that while I’m out here in the community I should be hanging around with straight, normal, non-hooker people, and he’s right. Father Michael too. I need to know what I’ll really be giving up if I take my vows.”

Jeff licked his lips. “If?” he said.

Jared sat down on the sofa next to Jeff. “That’s what I’m doing here, isn’t it? Figuring out if that’s what God wants for me.”

Jeff rubbed a hand through his hair. “What about what you want for you?”

“Is there a difference?”

Jeff met Jared’s eyes and held them, his smile sad. “I don’t know. I guess it depends what you want.”

Jared chewed on his bottom lip and then asked, “Was it hard? Leaving the Church?”

Jeff tilted his head and appeared to consider the question. “Yes and no,” he rubbed at his stubbled chin. “I’d already started to have doubts. I’d given up my parish and gone to the monastery as a sort of last ditch spiritual retreat. I felt the Catholic Church was crying out for change. Rome didn’t agree,” Jeff shrugged. “Father Michael cornered me one day and told me that my problem wasn’t with God, it was with my path, and that I wasn’t going to find the right path sitting in a monastery. He sent me out here, to a tiny drop-in center that was just getting started. When I saw the center’s name,” Jeff laughed briefly, “ _Per Vias Rectas_ , I figured I might’ve found what I was looking for.”

“ _Per vias rectas_ ,” Jared repeated. “Latin for ‘by right paths’.”

Jeff nodded. “And then I met Sam and the thought of having to leave her and go back into the Church filled me with so much panic that in the end, it was an easy decision. I petitioned for my dispensation and asked her to marry me.”

Jared frowned. “But I thought—”

“She said no. She’d been married before, didn’t enjoy the experience.”

Jared nodded. “Father Michael says you can only really change an organization from the inside. That’s why he stays and fights for progress.”

Jeff shrugged. “That’s his path. This is mine. And it sounds like you’re going to be doing some soul-searching to try to find yours.”

Sam came out of the bedroom with a white-and-pink striped shirt folded over one arm and a pair of Jeff’s white Nikes in her other hand. “Here you go,” she said, handing Jared the shirt. “Slip this on over your tee-shirt.”

Jared did as he was told.

“What shoe size are you?” Sam asked.

“Thirteen,” Jared cringed slightly, embarrassed by his big feet.

Sam’s face fell. “Damn. These won’t fit then. What shoes do you have?”

“A cheap pair of sneakers that I used for farm work and a pair of black slip-ons.”

Sam sighed. “Go the slip-ons. The shirt looks good on you, by the way. It’s one I bought for Jeff that he’s never really liked to wear.”

“It’s pink!” Jeff protested.

Sam rolled her eyes. “You big baby. Nobody’s gonna mistake you for a girl, Honey, not with that beard. All they’re gonna see is a confident man who can wear any color he wants to.”

 Jared liked the sound of that. He hoped the shirt would make people think of him as confident too.

-X-

Inside the bar, people were crammed against each other in a way that made Jared struggle to breathe. The press of warm bodies was making him sweat and he was relieved when he and Chad reached the far side of the room, furthest from where the band was playing, and managed to find a small table to sit at.

Chad went to get them a drink and Jared felt awkward the minute the other man left his side. He slouched in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, the way he’d seen other guys sitting, and he rested one arm on the round table top. After a moment he began drumming his fingers and nodding his head to the beat of the loud music.  A hand on his shoulder made him jump. Behind him stood a dark-haired young woman with sultry hazel eyes and big full lips. She was wearing a very short, very tight-fitting black dress and ridiculously high heels. Jared imagined that Nanny would have something uncomplimentary to say about that dress; she wouldn’t have approved of the way the woman’s breasts were almost falling out of it or of the fact that it barely covered her crotch.

“Hi,” the woman said. She gestured at Chad’s empty chair. “Is this seat taken?”

“Uh. Yes. My friend just went to get us some drinks.”

The woman flashed a dimpled smile and sat down. “I’m sure he won’t mind. I’m Sophia.”

“Uh. Jared.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jared. So what do you do for a living? Actor, right?”  

“Um. No. I’m a student.”

“Get out? That’s so hot! I’m a model. I’ve done some magazine work and a couple of TV commercials. I did one for Macy’s that you might’ve seen.”

She paused and looked at him expectantly.

“Oh,” said Jared. “I, uh, don’t watch a lot of television. Sorry.”

She chattered about herself for a while, occasional leaning over and touching his arm when his attention seemed to be drifting. Jared did a lot of smiling and vigorous nodding and felt completely out of his depth. When Chad came back with their drinks, Jared’s relief was obvious.

“Well hello, baby,” Chad leered, setting their drinks down on the table and eyeing Sophia appreciatively. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

Sophia flipped her hair. “You’ve probably seen some of my modeling work.”

Chad snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Yes! I saw you in a magazine, didn’t I?”

Sophia nodded eagerly. “Maxim. I was in their swim suit special.”

Chad nodded and then patted Jared on the arm. “Dude, get up. You’re in my seat.”

“No, _she’s_ in your seat.”

Sophia stood up and pulled Chad toward her. “I can sit on your lap,” she purred.

Jared took his first ever sip of beer and decided it was drinkable.

Chad spent the next twenty minutes chatting up Sophia, and casually feeling her up too, which made Jared squirm with embarrassment. To his surprise, when Sophia asked Chad to ditch Jared and go to a ‘hot club’ with her, Chad said no.

“Your loss, baby,” Sophia climbed out of Chad’s lap and sauntered away.

“Dude,” Chad said when she’d gone. “What the hell?”

Jared frowned at him. “What?”

“I was watching you from the bar. She totally hit on you. You were so in. You need to step up your game, man.”

“Oh. She’s, uh. I don’t think she’s my type.”

Chad nodded. “Too slutty, right? You need a girl-next-door type.”

While Jared reddened and attempted to hide his face behind his hands, Chad started pointing out women, rating them on their assets and deficits, as he saw them, and nudging Jared and waggling his eyebrows whenever any of the women looked toward their table.

 “Check out that fine specimen!” Chad crowed. “Nice rump, decent tits, awesome bone structure.”

“They’re not cattle,” Jared said from between his fingers. “Seriously, Chad, you’re the type of guy who gives guys a bad name. You’re totally disrespectful to women.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “Easy Padre,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Anyway, a place like this, it _is_ pretty much a meat market. Don’t think they’re not after the same thing we are.” He looked at Jared, eyes squinting, and then sighed. “But if it’s making you this uncomfortable, how about I go and get us another drink and you look around quietly, see if there’s anyone you’d like to talk to.”

Chad disappeared toward the bar and Jared sat for a while and surreptitiously inspected the women in the room. When he found himself checking out a very nice, very masculine ass for the third time he finished off his beer with a gulp and fixed his eyes on the band.

“So,” Chad banged a glass down in front of Jared, slopping beer over the side and onto the mat. “You figured out your type yet?”

Jared shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he hedged.

“C’mon, man. Tall, short? Blonde, brunette, red head? Big tits? What does it for you?”

Jared drew a deep breath. “Maybe none of them?” he said quietly, meeting Chad’s eyes at the last minute.

Chad raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, none of them? Seriously dude, you must—” he stopped abruptly and stared at Jared. “Oh man,” he said. “You’re into dick, aren’t you?”

Jared shrugged, his face reddening again.

Chad nodded. He stood up, his face suddenly determined. “C’mon. Get up. We’re gonna figure this out once and for all. We’re going to _Whiskey and Rye_.” 

“What about our beers?”

“Screw it. This is an emergency.”

Chad took ahold of Jared’s upper arm and dragged him back across the bar to the door, ignoring Jared’s protests that he didn’t want to go to a strip club.

He was still protesting as they headed down the sidewalk. “Chad, I can’t. Danneel works there!”

“So?”

“She’s my friend! I don’t want to see her take her clothes off!”

Chad rolled his eyes. “It’s not full nudity. Besides, you can just close your eyes when she comes on.”

The line to get in to _Whiskey and Rye_ was half a block long.

“Oh well,” said Jared. “Bad luck. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Not so fast, Padre,” Chad dragged him to the front of the line and flashed a VIP card at the bouncer, who greeted him by name. The bouncer lifted a gold rope and ushered them inside.

To Jared’s everlasting relief all the tables near the stage were occupied, but they managed to find an empty one at the back of the room, which was really as close to the action as Jared was comfortable getting.

A topless waitress came across to take their drink order and Jared blushed and stared at the floor while Chad organized more beer.

The music coming from the stage stopped and the audience clapped and cheered.

“Alright, alright,” a middle aged man with an impressive gut stepped onto the stage with a microphone. “Settle down, settle down. Coming up next; she teases, she pleases, she also stripteases! With her big brown eyes and her double G bazookas, we have Wild Thing, Bambi Starr.”

The Troggs’ song started up and the crowd cheered.

Chad smacked Jared’s arm. “You can look. It’s not Danneel.”

Jared watched as a woman dressed in a ragged leopard skin dress writhed around on the stage, swung on fake vines, twirled around a pole and occasionally tore off part of her costume. Objectively, Jared knew that she was attractive, but she didn’t turn him on in the slightest.  

 Next up was Dick Rider, who came out dressed as a fireman. He peeled off his uniform and wiggled his ass to _Burning down the House_ by Talking Heads, while doing some really obscene things with a fire hose that made Jared’s jeans feel several sizes too small.

So that answered that question. Jared closed his eyes briefly and rubbed at his temples. He was attracted to men, not women. This was…not something he would have chosen, but choice didn’t seem to enter into it. He just…he didn’t feel any attraction toward women, no matter how much he wanted to. Jared valued honesty and he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He was very clearly… Jared winced. He couldn’t even think the word without his mind stumbling over it. He took a deep breath. He was gay. Jared closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he half expected to find everyone staring at him; maybe a large, flashing arrow pointing at his head; but no one was paying him any attention. He was gay and the world kept turning. He took a sip of his beer and frowned. The only question left, really, was what he should do about…it. Did he follow the Church’s teachings and refuse to act on his attractions? If so, should he live honestly out in the community, acknowledging that he was same-sex attracted, but taking up his cross and refusing to sin? Or should he go back into the Church, where he would not only be forced into celibacy, but also kept away from temptation? He’d been serious about the priesthood for the last three years. But maybe…maybe God didn’t intend for that to be his path.  Jared glanced back at the stage and…Oh my goodness…that was so… wow. He swallowed. If he were honest with himself, Jared wanted to find somebody to love; somebody to snuggle with and kiss; somebody to cook dinner with and to argue with over whose turn it was to take out the trash. And yes, somebody to share God’s most intimate gift to humanity with. The real question then…Jared glanced back up at the stage and almost whimpered at the scene before him… The real question was:  Was love something he was brave enough to go after? Because if he did, given Rome’s teaching on homosexuality, it would lose him his Church.

Jared shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Beside him, Chad sighed. “Guess this makes you the perfect wingman,” he said, meeting Jared’s eyes. “Cuz you’re not gonna be stealing my pussy, are you?”

“You’re a charming human being, Chad.”

Chad’s smile was surprisingly genuine. “It’s been said. I think a discovery like this calls for whiskey.” He held his hand up and a well-oiled young man wearing nothing but gold hot pants and a gold bow tie sashayed across with his order pad. Jared tried not to stare at his groin while he took Chad’s order—two shots of Wild Turkey—but he stared unabashedly at his ass when he left.

“Maybe I should get you a lap dance,” Chad mused.

“What?”

“A lap dance. You know, pay one of these guys to sit on your lap and wriggle around.”

“ _What_? No _way_! Don’t you dare!”

Dick Rider was followed by Melody Cumsalot, who walked like an Eqyptian to The Bangles’ song and finished her performance wearing an almost invisible thong and an elaborate gold headdress. The whiskey shots arrived during her routine and Jared copied Chad when he slammed his back, almost choking on the sharp, burning liquid.

When the man with the microphone announced that everybody’s favorite Mr Roger Boise would be performing next and the man himself danced on stage to the tune of _My Sharona_ , Chad announced that he was going to hit the head. Probably not a bad move on his part, because Mr Boise’s stage name, along with his choice of song had Jared squirming, and not in a good way.  He let his attention drift to the dancers who were working their way through the crowd, chatting to customers and performing the occasional lap dance. The thought of someone grinding against him like that in public was like ice water being tipped down his spine.  The thought of Jensen doing it to him in private had him hard in record time.  Jared put his head in his hands and wondered if he would’ve been better off if he’d just stayed in the monastery and never figured out the truth about himself.

-X-

Jensen’s every-other-Wednesday regular wasn’t his least favorite, but he couldn’t honestly say that he enjoyed their dates very much.

Rick was the CFO at a blue chip company, and his wife thought he played poker twice a month to unwind from the stress of his job. Of course, he was actually playing poke Jensen, and if the wife had noticed that her husband always lost exactly three hundred bucks, she hadn’t mentioned it.

Rick liked Jensen to meet him in the bar of the Redbury Hotel on Vine St, and he liked Jensen to dress like a twinky little slut.  His company had a suite permanently reserved at the hotel and the staff never complained when Rick picked up the key and took Jensen upstairs. Nor did they ever give Jensen dirty looks when he came down by himself an hour later and asked them to book him a cab back to the seedy part of town.  Jensen respected their professionalism.

With Rick, Jensen was required to act like an eager cock slut; to rub up against him, to nibble at his neck and tongue fuck him, to suck his dick with enthusiasm, and to generally pant over him as if Rick were the hottest thing he had ever seen. He liked Jensen to beg to be fucked, using the kind of cheesy porn dialog that Jensen would never in a million years use with a real lover. It always made him feel really silly and sometimes he had trouble keeping a straight face.

Finally, when he thought Jensen had begged enough, Rick liked to throw him down on his stomach and fuck him hard and fast and dirty. The sex was always rougher than Jensen really liked it, but he usually managed to come. At least Rick didn’t expect him to manage anything more vocal than ‘oh yeah, oh God’ while he was being fucked, so he could mostly just relax during that part and plan out the rest of his evening. 

When they finished, Jensen showered, then took his three hundred dollar fee, plus his cab fare, stroked Rick’s ego a bit more and secured a booking for the Wednesday after next, and then left.

Chris was out on a date when Jensen got back to their regular beat, so he went and got himself a coffee from the donut shop. The Salvation Army coffee van was parked right across from it, but Jensen didn’t use those. For a start, he could afford to buy his own coffee—his earnings last year from dates and modeling combined had been $76,000.00 , for fuck’s sake. It didn’t all go through the books, but a sizeable portion of it had to, to justify his savings. Jensen lived frugally. His current lifestyle was a means to an end and nothing more. He had no interest in getting comfortable or settled in it. The vast portion of his earnings went into his savings account and the last thing he wanted to do was wave a red flag at the IRS by saving more money in a year than he’d officially earned. Jensen knew that intensive scrutiny of his finances would reveal the illicit nature of his income, so self-employed model Jensen Ackles did a lot of jobs for cash, but owned up to a very respectable income in order to fly under the radar and avoid suspicion. He probably paid more tax in a year than any of the do-gooders running the coffee vans even earned. So yeah, he could afford to buy his own damn coffee. He wasn’t some hard luck story. He didn’t need rescuing or saving or to find Jesus or whatever shit the do-gooders undoubtedly handed out along with the coffee.

Long black, double shot in hand, Jensen sauntered back to the beat and waited for Chris in the shadows. He liked to pull in at least $400.00 a night and he’d already earned that tonight, so he was shutting up shop, so to speak, and calling it a night. He was hoping that Chris would be up for going out for a drink.

Jensen dug his cigarettes out of the pocket of his leather jacket and lit up. He wondered how Jared was doing, whether he was having fun. Whether he was drunk yet. And Jared being out there somewhere in no way had anything to do with his sudden desire to go out for a drink. Jensen certainly wasn’t hoping to run into him. That was the last thing he wanted. Jensen hoped like hell that Jared wouldn’t waste his life hidden away inside an archaic, dying institution like the Catholic Church; he was too spirited for that, too full of love and life to be confined by the restrictions of such an existence. He hoped that the kid found a nice girl to marry, someone respectable he could take home to Mom and Dad. Hanging out with Jensen was the last thing Jared needed.

Chris turned up at half past eleven, looking pissed.

“You okay, man?” Jensen asked warily.

“Closet case,” Chris said. “Said he wanted me to fuck him. Changed his mind when we got to the hotel and said he wanted to fuck me. I said no – it ain’t been long enough since Donkey Dick – and he got pissed. Said some shit,” Chris shook his head. “I blew him instead, but that ain’t the point. The date was supposed to be a better earner than that.”

Jensen clapped him on the back. “I can’t be assed going back out. What d’ya say we go for a drink? Danni’s shift ends at midnight. We can go and pick up her and Steve, then go down to _The Hole in the Wall_ for a few drinks, a few games of pool. What d’ya say?”

Chris agreed enthusiastically. Jensen didn’t even have to be persuasive.

-X-

Clif, the 6ft6 staff security officer, let them in the employee entrance with a good-natured grin and a one armed hug. Chris had once drunk the big guy under the table and lost him a fifty dollar bet, and he’d approved wholeheartedly of Chris ever since. The back stage area of _Whiskey and Rye_ smelled like hairspray, fake tan, cigarette smoke and sweat, and the combined scent was one that Jensen found both exotic and comforting. Chris muttered something about needing to use the restroom and Jensen went in search of Danneel.

There were two large dressing rooms in the club. In theory one of them was for the men and one was for the women, but all the dancers used both of them interchangeably. Jensen poked his head into the left side dressing room and found Scott standing in nothing but a jock strap, winding up his fire hose.

“Aw, man,” said Jensen. “Did I miss the fireman routine? I love that routine. Especially that thing you do with the fire hose,” he clutched at his chest dramatically. “It makes me all tingly inside.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’ll do _you_ with the fire hose,” he threatened.

Jensen batted his eyelashes. “Promises, promises.”

When Scott had first joined the team, Danneel tried to set him up with Jensen, and had been mortified when he’d explained that not only was he straight, he was married. Jensen and Scott got on well though, despite their awkward introduction, and they made a point of flirting shamelessly (and harmlessly) with each other whenever they met up.

“Jay!” Danneel’s squeal was piercing and Jensen turned just in time to get an armful of combat-boot-wearing fairy princess.

“Hey Beautiful,” he said. “Are you done for the night?”

Danni shook her head. “Got the Fairy routine in about five minutes, then I’m done.”

Jensen nodded. “Was thinking that after you and Steve finish up we could go out to _The Hole_ for a few drinks,” he looked over at Scott. “You’re welcome to join us too if you’d like.”

Scott was pulling on a safari suit and he looked up when Jensen spoke and shook his head. “Thanks, but I got a hot woman waiting in bed for me.”

“Lucky woman,” Jensen said with a wink.

_“Two minutes, Danni! Get your ass to the stage door!”_

Danneel pulled a face. “Gotta go. You gonna go out and watch me?”

“Sure,” Jensen gave her a quick hug and then pushed her toward the wings.

He strode down the passageway and knocked on the restroom door. “You just about done, Chris? Danni’s goin’ on now. I wanna go out and watch.”

Chris appeared a moment later looking pissed again.

Jensen frowned. “What’s goin’ on? You really okay?”

“Yeah. I’m outta gum is all and I can’t get the latex taste outta my mouth. Nothing a shot of whiskey won’t fix.”

They walked out into the noisy, crowded club and Chris clapped Jensen on the shoulder and said that he was going to go and hit Steve up for free drinks, what did he want? Jensen wasn’t listening, though. He’d just spotted Jared sitting alone at a table at the back of the club.

“What the fuck?” he said.

“Huh?” Chris followed his gaze. “What?”

“See the guy at that table over there?” Jensen pointed. “That’s Jared.”

“The altar boy you’re crushing on?”

Jensen glared at him and Chris looked sheepish. “What’s the problem? Just go talk to him.”

Jensen shook his head. “He was supposed to be going out for a nice, normal night out. Not to a strip club, for fuck’s sake.”

The sound of throat clearing attracted Jensen’s attention and he turned to find Chad standing behind him. “Yeah, that may be my fault,” said Chad.

“You brought him to a strip club?” Jensen’s voice was scathing, “That’s your idea of normal?”

Chad shrugged. “I come here all the time. To be fair, we started out at a regular bar. We only came here to figure out once and for all whether your Padre over there is attracted to tits or dick or both.”

Chris was examining Chad as if he were a particularly fascinating species of bug. “He figure it out yet?” he asked.

_Fairies Wear Boots_ by Black Sabbath blasted out of the loud speakers and Jensen watched as Jared abruptly looked horrified and covered his face with his hands.

“Oh yeah,” said Chad, “I was supposed to warn him when Danneel went on stage so that he could make sure he didn’t look.”

Jensen looked confused and Chad shrugged. “Something about not wanting to see his friend naked.”

Chris whacked Jensen on the arm. “You should go and tell him that Danni’ll be offended if he doesn’t watch her dance.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, his eyes fixed on Jared. “I’ll do that,” he turned to Chris and said, “Get me a shot of Jack,” before heading off into the crowd.

Chris fixed his gaze on Chad. “So,” he said, “our man over there? What was the verdict? Dick or tits?”

Chad smirked. “Yawned his way through Bambi Starr and boned up during Dick Rider. So you tell me?”

-X-

Heavy metal blared over the speakers and Jared winced. A slutty-looking fairy danced on stage, her ragged pink tulle skirt and jagged sparkling wings a jarring juxtaposition to the flat black lace-up boots on her feet. Jared’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. And then…Oh my goodness. Was that…? It was. Crap. Jared buried his face in his hands. It was Danneel. 

He’d been sitting like that for several minutes, aware that he probably looked stupid to everyone watching, when a gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Hey Jare?”

Jared knew that voice, and his initial reaction to hearing it here, now, was to flee. He felt stupidly, perversely guilty for having been caught by Jensen in a strip club, and hot on the heels of that he felt angry about his instinctive reaction, because Jensen was a hooker; he certainly couldn’t claim any moral high ground.

“Look at me, Jare.”

Against his better judgment, Jared looked up. Jensen was wearing eyeliner. And tight, ripped jeans. And a leather jacket. He looked all kinds of hot and if Jared hadn’t been sure about his orientation before, he was now. The kindness and understanding in Jensen’s eyes just about gutted him.

“Danni’s goin’ be real upset if you don’t watch her performance.” Jensen moved to sit down in Chad’s chair and Jared tracked his movement. “It’s an awesome routine. And don’t worry, she doesn’t get completely naked.”

Jared glanced up at the stage. Danneel was whizzing around and around at the very top of the stripper pole, one arm and one leg sticking out in a way that made it look like she was really flying.

“How’s your evening been?” Jensen asked.

Jared shrugged. “It’s…I’m,” he shook his head. “I should probably go home.”

“Why?”

Jensen’s expression was warm and caring and it grounded Jared, freed him to say, “Because I think I want to do…things. Things that I’ve been taught are wrong. And I’m so scared, because…if I…if I act on…these feelings, then I lose…everything.”

Jensen scooted his chair closer to Jared’s and put his hand up on the table, his fingertips resting close to Jared’s arm, almost, but not quite, touching.

“Can you talk to me about it?” his voice was so soft, so calm. It was almost hypnotic. “What are you feeling?”

Jared sighed. “There was this girl. And she had this leopard skin outfit on and she…she danced. And. Chad. Chad was catcalling and whistling and. Nothing,” he shook his head. “I didn’t feel anything. Then there was this fireman. And he had this hose,” Jared’s voice caught in his throat.

“And you liked it?”

Jared nodded, his face etched with misery. “I did more than like it. I,” he glanced down at his groin.

Jensen nodded in understanding. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve seen Scott’s routine twenty or thirty times and I sprout wood every time. There’s this one part, where he puts the hose between his legs and—” Jensen’s words drifted off as he noticed Jared’s look of utter horror. “Jare?”

Jared squeezed his eyes shut and then dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders heaving.

Jensen scooted his chair even closer, so that his knee was pressed against Jared’s thigh. “Alright, here’s the thing. You look like you could do with a hug, but I don’t wanna trigger some internalized homophobic panic and cop a fist to the face for my troubles.”

Jared blinked against his palms. Jensen thought he might hit him?  “I would never hit you.”

“So I can…?” Jared could feel Jensen’s arm hovering behind his back and he nodded.

Jensen’s arm was heavy and solid and comfortable. It made Jared feel safe; protected.

“I was thirteen,” Jensen said, “when I figured out I was gay,” he snorted. “You should’ve seen me Jare, I was so fuckin’ _pretty_.  _Prettier than all the girls up at the high school put together_ ,” he snorted again and Jared got the feeling he’d been quoting someone. “Luke was a high school senior,” Jensen continued, “and the assistant coach of my baseball team. He was a gay boy’s wet dream; tall, muscled, one hell of an ass. He caught me lookin’ at him one time too many and cornered me in the locker room after practice. Everyone else had gone home, was just me and him and I was so scared, cuz, ya know, this was Texas. He told me I was pretty. Said he was gonna give me what I’d been askin’ for. And he shoved his hand down my pants and jerked me off. After that, we messed around every week. There wasn’t anything more to it than that, it was just sex. But my mom, she was sick. And I guess I needed something. Something that felt good. You know?”

  Jared’s hands had fallen away from his face while Jensen was speaking and he turned now to look at the older man.

“You were just a kid, though,” he said. “He shouldn’t’ve done that.”

Jensen shrugged. “He didn’t hurt me,” he tilted his head to one side. “He didn’t love me. Don’t think he even liked me very much, but he always made it good.”

Jared nodded. “So how did it end?”

“He went to college. I never saw or heard from him again.”

“What did your parents say? When you told them you were, you know?”

Jensen’s smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “I ran away to Hollywood to become a hooker at the age of fifteen. That doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Believe it or not, I like my life. And I like who I am. And you,” Jensen nudged Jared with his knee, “you’re a grown-ass, independent man who’s just figured out he prefers Dick Rider to Melody Cumsalot. Anyone who doesn’t respect that can go fuck themselves.”


	8. Chapter Seven

# Chapter Seven

**_T_** _he Hole in the Wall_ wasn’t technically a gay bar, but it was LGBT friendly. It wasn’t on any tourist routes or maps, so most of the customers were locals. In fact, given the bar’s proximity to the red light district, most of its customers were sex industry workers of one type or another, and really, Jensen had absolutely no business allowing Jared anywhere near the place.

Back at _Whiskey and Rye_ , Chris and Chad had arrived at the table with a tray of Jack Daniels shots to find Jared and Jensen talking about college courses.

“You thinking about changing your major, Padre?” Chad asked.

Jared helped himself to a shot. “Maybe.  We were actually talking about what Jensen wants to do.”

Chad’s lips started to twitch upwards and then he caught sight of Jensen’s expression and apparently thought better of laughing at him. He threw back a shot and then ran the back of his hand across his mouth before asking, “So what are you thinking of studying, Jensen?”

“Physiotherapy.”

“Right,” Chad nodded. “Makes sense. Swap one sort of ‘massage’ for another.”

Chris made a sort of growling noise that would’ve had most people running for cover. Chad just looked puzzled.

“Do you have a death wish?” Chris demanded, poking Chad in the chest. He turned to Jared. “Does he have a death wish?”

Jared shrugged. “He’s just Chad.”

There was a moment’s silence and then Chris exploded. “ _’He’s just Chad’._ Is that supposed to answer the fucking question?”

Jared shrank away and Jensen reached out and put a hand on Chris’s arm. “Chill out, Chris. Chad’s default setting is douchebag,” he glanced at Chad. “No offense.”

Chad waved him away. “None taken.”

“So when Jared says ‘He’s just Chad,’ that actually does kinda answer the question. This is my buddy, Jared, by the way. Jared this is my roommate and best friend, Chris. His bark is way worse than his bite, I promise.”

Chris eyed Jared suspiciously for a moment and then reached out his hand.

“Sorry. It’s good to meet you.”

Jared stared at him and then sat up straight and grinned. “You too,” he shook his hand enthusiastically.

Chris chuckled. “I get why Danni called him an overgrown puppy now.”

Steve joined them shortly after when his shift finished, and Danni and another dancer called Sandy wandered across not long after that, looking much more girl-next-door than stripper, to Jared’s very obvious relief.

“Did you enjoy my routine?” Danni asked Jared.

Jared tried to hide behind his bangs. “It was, um, very athletic,” he mumbled.

Jared looked so forlorn when Jensen told him that he was heading out to another bar with his friends that Jensen felt obligated to invite him and Chad to come too. So now, the seven of them were wedged into a booth at _The Hole_ downing Tequila shots, and Jared was pressed up against him, hot and sweaty and not exactly sober.

A drunk Jared, Jensen discovered, was an adorable Jared. He seemed to find almost everything funny and he laughed aloud, a lot. He also became very tactile and couldn’t seem to talk to someone without touching them. Jensen was completely blindsided by how pissed he was whenever that someone was Sandy.  The tiny, dark haired stripper was flirting shamelessly with a completely oblivious Jared and Jensen could feel his claws coming out.

“You’re soooo funny, Jared,” Sandy thrust her fake tits at Jared, her face screwing up in annoyance when he didn’t even glance at them. Now _that_ was funny. Jensen snorted.

Jared turned to him. “Do you think I’m funny Jensen?”

Jensen patted him on the arm. “I think you’re a happy drunk.”

Jared’s face was comical in its sudden sincerity. “Am I drunk? I’ve never been drunk!” He turned back to Sandy. “I’m gonna be a priest,” he said. “And never, ever have any sex.” The way Sandy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped was possibly the funniest thing Jensen had seen all year. “Or maybe I’m not,” Jared frowned. “Maybe God wants me to have sex. What do all ya’ll think?”

Jensen nearly spat out his Tequila. “All ya’ll? Really Jared? I’m the one from Texas, buddy, not you. Unless you’ve got some Texan roots you didn’t tell me about?”

Jared shrugged. “Don’t think so. I’m adopted, but I think they got me from Poland. Anyway, Sam says all y’all and she’s not from Texas.”

Sandy draped herself across Jared’s side. “Well I definitely think you should have sex,” she said.

“Me too!” Chad lifted his glass in Jared’s direction.

Jared beamed and Jensen rolled his eyes. “I think we should all stop talking about Jared having sex.”

“Why?” Sandy demanded. “Sounds like he’s got some issues to resolve. And anyway, you’ve got no grounds to be prudish, you’re a hooker.”

Jensen glared at her. “He’s _drunk_ , Sandy, and he’s gonna be real embarrassed about this in the morning.”

“Oh please! He’s had, like, four shots.”

“Six. And three beers. And this is the first time he’s touched alcohol.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s a big boy. I think—”

“Uh, guys?” Jared put one hand in front of Jensen’s face and one in front of Sandy’s face. “Trying to look at you both is making me dizzy. And I’m starting to feel kinda nauseous.”

Jensen entwined his fingers with Jared’s and lowered their hands from in front of his face. “I’m gonna take you home,” he said.

“Oh, please,” said Sandy. “As if he wants to fuck you. You should come home with me, Jared.”

Jared’s eyes never left Jensen’s. “I don’t think we should have sex,” he whispered.

“Neither do I,” Jensen replied. “I think I should take you home to Jeff and Sam’s place and get them to put you to bed with a glass of water and a couple aspirin.”

Jared nodded. “Okay.”

It took some maneuvering to get them out of the booth, and Sandy made it as difficult as possible, but finally they were clear and out in the night air. Jared held his arms up and spread them wide. “Oh that’s good. I can breathe again!”

They walked a little way in silence and then Jared said, “You’re a good friend, Jensen. Thank you for looking out for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was two am and the streets were still teeming with people. A man and a woman were pressed up against a brick wall, kissing, and Jensen watched Jared watching them.

“Jensen?”

“Yeah?”

“What Sandy said. Do you want to?”

Jensen frowned. “What?”

“You know,” Jared lowered his voice. “The eff word. Do you want to do that? With me?”

Jensen could feel a headache starting up behind his eyeballs, because seriously? “You’re a nice guy, Jared, but I like my partners to be capable of consent. You’re drunk.”

“But if I wasn’t?”

Jensen sighed. “Look. It’s complicated. You’re you. And I’m me.”

“Well, no shit.” Jared clapped a hand over his mouth. “I swore! I don’t swear! Why did I swear?”

“Because you’re drunk. Alcohol reduces your inhibitions. Makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do.”

“Like swear?”

“Like swear. And have sex with girls you hardly know.”

Jared screwed up his nose. “I would never have sex with a girl.”

He stopped walking with a gasp.

“Jared? What’s wrong.”

“I would never have sex with a girl. Jensen! I’m gay. I really, really am.”

Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You should stop talking.”

Jared shook his head. “No, no, no. In vino veritas, right? In wine the truth. I wouldn’t have sex with Danni or Sandy. But I’d have sex with you, Jensen.”

“Please, for the love of God, stop talking!”

Jared’s bottom lip dropped and his eyes became liquid with hurt. “Don’t you like me?”

“I…you… _fuck_!” Jensen shoved Jared up against the wall and kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, it was hard, almost aggressive, and Jensen held the younger man firmly in place and pressed against him from shoulder to hip. He wanted there to be no confusion in Jared’s mind, no question about the fact that he was kissing another man.  He wasn’t at all prepared for Jared’s reaction. He’d expected that Jared would either freeze or push him away. Instead, Jared whimpered, his mouth falling open invitingly, and Jensen wasted no time in licking his way inside, his tongue seeking out Jared’s, licking and sucking on it in a way that made Jared groan and fist his hands in Jensen’s shirt.  Jensen pulled away, his breathing harsh. “Does that answer your question?”

Jared nodded, his pupils blown wide. “Oh yeah. That was awesome. I’m going to be sick now.”

Jensen barely got out the way in time.

-X-

Turned out that drunken, stupefied sasquatches were hard as hell to maneuver down the street. What should’ve been a ten minute walk took more like twenty because of all the staggering from one side of the sidewalk to the other. When Jensen eventually got Jared to Jeff’s place, the kid couldn’t get his key in the lock and Jensen ended up having to do it for him. Of course, the door couldn’t’ve opened up into an actual apartment, because that would’ve been too easy. No, it had to open up on to a tall-ass flight of stairs, which Jared was in no fit state to navigate without help. A quarter of the way up, the fucking security alarm went off and Jared started moaning about having forgotten what the security code was. The screeching alarm finally shut up and Jensen was very grateful, right up until the door at the top of the stairs was flung open and he found himself staring up into the barrel of a shotgun.

“Don’t shoot!” he said. “Jared forgot about the security system.”

“I forgot,” Jared confirmed miserably. “And I threw up. On the sidewalk.”

“Jared?” Jeff lowered the gun and peered down at them. “Are you drunk?”

“Yessir,” Jared hung his head despondently.

Jeff sighed and handed the shotgun off to Sam who’d come up behind him. He descended the stairs and took ahold of the arm of Jared’s that wasn’t draped over Jensen’s shoulders. Together they dragged him up the stairs and into the apartment.

“Gonna be sick again,” Jared announced.

“I’ve got him from here,” Jeff said and hauled Jared across the small apartment to what was, presumably, the bathroom.

Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and shuffled his feet.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” Sam said. “You go on and take a seat now, I’m gonna make sure everything’s locked up properly and then we’ll have a chat.”

“I should just go,” Jensen said, edging toward the stairs.

Sam fixed him with a quelling look and Jensen went and sat meekly on the sofa.  Sam double-checked the front door, re-set the alarm and locked the shotgun away and then rejoined Jensen, sitting down next to him.

“How much has he had to drink?”

Jensen told her.

“And you? You’re not twenty-one yet either, are you?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding. Underage drinking ain’t the worst misdemeanor I’ve committed tonight.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “And where was Chad in all this? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one taking Jared out?”

Jensen snorted. “Oh, he took him out alright. To a strip club. And who do you think was buying the shots?”

Sam sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I thought this was supposed to be a night of nice, normal college-boy fun.”

Jensen shrugged. “Apparently strip clubs _are_ normal for Chad. He has a VIP membership at _Whiskey and Rye_.”

Sam shook her head. “Actually, that really doesn’t surprise me. Why were you there? Do you dance too?”

Jensen pulled a face. “Hell, no. We were picking Danni up from work. We were going for an after work drink and Jared wanted to come. I didn’t really want to leave him alone with Chad, so,” Jensen shrugged.

The bathroom door opened and Jeff led a pale, sweaty Jared out of the bathroom and into what was obviously his bedroom.   
Sam sighed again and got to her feet. “Better get a bucket,” she looked down at Jensen. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. You can sleep on the couch.”

“Thanks, but I gotta get going.”

“Honey, it’s 3.00am, you shouldn’t be out walking the streets at this time.”

Jensen stared at her. “You do know what I do for a living, right?”

To Sam’s credit she didn’t look away. “Bad choice of words, maybe, but I stand by the sentiment. It’s late. You’ve been drinking. I’ll make up the couch.”

“Don’t. I’m probably the last person Jared’s gonna want to see tomorrow.”

Sam tilted her head. “Why is that?”

Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “He’s a happy drunk. Talkative. And touchy-feely. And he’s probably gonna be real embarrassed when he wakes up. And it’s probably better for everyone if I’m not around to make him feel even more embarrassed.”

 Sam was staring at him again. “How touchy-feely?” she asked, her hands on her hips and her voice like steel.

Jensen felt all of ten years old again, standing in his yard back home trying to tell his momma that it had been his big brother who’d swung on the washing line and made it break. He found himself rambling about strippers and Jared and how Jared kept talking about sex and he was just so adorable when he was drunk, only he was drunk and Jensen and he both agreed that sex would be a bad idea, and Jensen had this absolute rule about clear consent because, well, why didn’t matter, but he really probably definitely shouldn’t have kissed Jared. Oh God. He’d kissed Jared. Shoved him against a wall and kissed him. And Jared had kissed him back. And now he was babbling about it to Sam. He must’ve had more to drink than he’d realized because shut up Jensen. Shut up.

“Oh, Honey,” Sam sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You like him, don’t you?”

The look on her face, it was like she cared. About him. Which. She couldn’t. Because he was…he was a sex worker. Sexing people up was kind of what he did. He had sex with strangers all the time. It was nothing. Just a job. But Jared? He didn’t. He wasn’t. Sam should be worried about _him_. Not Jensen.

Jensen scrambled to his feet. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” Sam stood up. “I’ll have to come down and let you out.”

At the bottom of the stairs she pulled him into a hug. “You take care now, Hon.”

Tears pricked at Jensen’s eyes and he pulled away and fled into the dark.

Jeff was waiting for Sam at the top of the stairs.

“What was that all about?”

Sam sighed and shook her head. “I wanted him to stay, but he was spooked as a nervous colt. Has Jared read those safe sex pamphlets you gave him?”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Why?”

“Either way, I think we’re gonna have to have ‘the talk’ with him.”

Jeff’s face tightened. “Did something happen tonight?”

Sam made a so/so gesture. “Did you get a bucket for Jared?”

Jeff nodded. “Put it by his bed. I also made him drink three glasses of water, and left water and aspirin by his bed for the morning. You gonna tell me what happened tonight?”

Sam knuckled her eyes and tipped her head back, taking a deep breath. “Near as I can make out, Chad took Jared to a strip club, got him drunk, and then Jared, who is apparently a happy, touchy-feely drunk, told Jensen that he’d rather have sex with him than with Danneel, and they ended up making out against a wall. Jensen is now freaking out that Jared will freak out in the morning, and the reason Jensen is freaking out is because, Jeff, I think he really likes Jared. And I don’t think that’s happened for him in a while; if ever.”

Jeff sighed and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’d be surprised if Jared doesn’t panic. You know what the Catholic Church has to say about homosexuality.” He yawned. “What a mess. I am way too tired for this right now. Let’s go back to bed. We’ll talk to Jared tomorrow.”

-X-

The first thing Jensen saw when he opened his apartment door was Steve’s bare white ass.

“Jesus Christ!” he swore. “I don’t need to see this.”

Chris peered out from beneath Steve and Jensen scowled at him. “Fuck, Chris!”

Chris nodded laconically. “That’s the general idea. Ain’t quite got there yet, though, so if you don’t mind?”

Jensen gritted his teeth. “You have a room.”

“So do you. Mind going to it so’s we can get on with the fucking?”

Steve was motionless between Chris’s spread legs, his face pressed against Chris’s shoulder.

Jensen swore again. “Is Danni home?”

“Yeah.”

“She alone?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going there then. Next time, keep it PG ‘til you get to the bedroom. Sorry, Steve.”

Steve didn’t respond, not that Jensen had expected him to.

Danni opened the door with the safety chain on.

“Chris and Steve are fucking on my couch.”

The door closed and then opened wide. “You better come in then.”

Danni was wearing her Little Mermaid flannelette pajamas and had a mug of hot chocolate in one hand. She raised the mug at Jensen. “You want one?”

He nodded and followed her into the kitchen.

“You don’t seem very surprised,” he said, while she puttered around making him cocoa.

“Chris comes around to the Club a fair bit when Steve’s working. A couple weeks back I saw them kissing. Tonight, they didn’t touch once, but the sexual tension was so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. Of course, you had your own sexual tension going on, so I guess you didn’t notice.” She handed him a pink mug that said ‘Queen of the Universe’. Jensen rolled his eyes and Danneel smirked.

“Chris normally dates women,” Jensen said. “He’s always had, like, this dividing line. Men are for business, women are for pleasure.”

“Yeah. I think this is a big deal for him. I think maybe that’s why he’s been keeping it quiet. Come on, I wanna get back into bed.”

Danneel’s lacy white quilt was thrown back and her pillows were plumped up and leaning against the headboard. Rosanna Arquette was frozen on screen, sitting in the back of a police car with a bird cage on her lap. Danni put her mug on the night stand and opened her bedside drawer.

“Here,” she threw Jensen a pair of bright yellow pajama bottoms with pictures of Tweety Bird on them and then got back into bed. She snuggled against her pillows and pulled the quilt up to her chin before pressing play on her DVD player’s remote.

“How do you use the birds?” said a black woman on screen.

Jensen started to strip out of his leather jacket and jeans. “ _Desperately seeking, Susan_?”

Danni nodded.

When he was changed, Jensen slid into bed next to Danni and she reached for him and pulled him close. They watched the rest of the movie in silence and when it was finished, Danni switched the television off and turned to Jensen.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“The movie?”

Danni slapped him gently on the head. “Whatever has you so bummed. It’s not the Chris and Steve thing, is it?”

Jensen shook his head.

“Jared?”

Jensen sighed. “I kissed him.”

“And?”

“He threw up.”

There was a pause and then Danneel said, “I’m not supposed to laugh, am I?”

Jensen scowled and pinched her thigh.

“Ow!” she squealed. “Pinching, Jay? Really? Are you gonna pull my hair next?”

Jensen sighed and looked up at Danni with sad green eyes. “He’s gonna hate me when he sobers up. He only kissed me back cuz he was drunk. I mean, it’s bad enough being a priest-in-training who suddenly realizes he’s gay. Getting tangled up with a hooker too? He doesn’t need that.”

Danni glared at him accusingly. “You think you’re not good enough for him, that’s it, isn’t it?”

When Jensen merely ducked his head, she sighed and took hold of his face with both of her hands, lifting it up and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You’re a good man, Jensen. Brave, loyal, kind, generous. Sex on legs.” Jensen rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Jay. Any guy’d be lucky to have you.”

  “A guy doesn’t need to be lucky to have me, Danni, he just needs to have cash. Name me one guy who’s gonna be willing to put up with his boyfriend fucking other guys for money?”

Danni was quiet for a moment. “Is that where you see things heading with Jared? Boyfriend territory?”

“I see things heading _nowhere_ with Jared. He doesn’t need my shit.”

Danni nodded. “Yeah? Well maybe you should let him decide that for himself.”

-X-

Jared knew about hangovers. He’d sometimes heard the younger staff members back at home talk about them, laughing and blushing about the awesome night out they’d had and the terrible hangover they’d had the next day.

His Dad too, had experienced hangovers. Mom and Dad went out to a lot of events, the type that required evening gowns, tuxedos, and the limo. His Dad frequently spent the day after one of these events shut up in his bedroom. ‘He had a few too many’, Mom would say, rolling her eyes. ‘He’s got one heck of a hangover’.

So even though he’d never had one himself before, Jared was familiar with the concept.

He vomited into the bucket again. The smell was vile and acidic and made him dry retch again and again. There was nothing of substance left in his stomach and the bile that he was heaving up was burning his throat. Every time he vomited, Jared’s head pounded and his eyes watered and he felt like he was going to pass out. He wondered if he should try to take some more aspirin. So far, every time he’d tried he’d just thrown it straight back up.

Somehow, Jared had expected a hangover to be cooler.

He waited fifteen minutes and then took another couple aspirin. This time, they stayed down. And they took the edge off his headache enough for him to fall into a fitful, troubled sleep.

When he awoke, Jared felt considerably better. His headache had all but gone and so had the nausea, although he still felt fragile and shaky. The stench in his bedroom from the bucket of vomit was truly disgusting and Jared recoiled from it, before picking the bucket up gingerly and carrying it out of his room at arm’s length.

Jeff was grading papers at the dining table. He greeted Jared affably and then went about his business, leaving Jared to empty the bucket and then shower and dress. When Jared was done, he approached the older man cautiously.

“How are you feeling?” Jeff asked when Jared shuffled to a stop beside his chair.

“Better, thanks,” he fidgeted. “Jeff…I’m really sorry about last night. I was stupid and thoughtless and things could’ve ended really badly for me if Jensen hadn’t had the sense to bring me home. So. I won’t be doing that again. And I apologize for causing such a disturbance last night. Sorry.”

Jeff nodded. “Have a seat,” he gestured at the chair next to him.

Jared sat.

Jeff packed up the papers around him and then turned to Jared with a sigh.

“I was about your age, the first time I got drunk. You know what my old man told me? He said, ‘Son, the great thing about alcohol is that over-indulging in it comes with its own built-in punishment; saves me the trouble of getting my belt out.’ I’m not your father, Jared, and it’s not my place to punish you. But  you are a vulnerable young man living in my house and I gotta say, I’m really not happy that you let yourself get so incapacitated last night. Because you’re right, it _was_ dangerous. And I’m glad you recognize that,” he paused and looked searchingly at Jared. “Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?”

Jared shook his head. “I just wanted to apologize. I really am sorry.”

“Okay. Let’s just put it behind us and make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Jeff clicked the nib of his pen in and out a few times and then realized that it was a nervous tic and put the pen down. It was probably best to just get on with it. “Jared, there’s something else that I need to talk to you about.”

Jared looked up, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“When Jensen brought you home last night, he and Sam had a long chat.”

Jared’s eyes became impossibly large. He swallowed, and then ducked his head. “Oh.”

“Look at me, son.”

Jared looked up reluctantly.

“You had a lot to drink last night. Did anything happen that you weren’t completely on board with?”

Jared shook his head.

“Did anything happen that you regret, now that you’re sober?”

Jared shook his head again.

Jeff ran a hand across his jaw. “Okay. I know this is all really new, and you possibly feel quite awkward and confused about it all, but, given what happened—and just so we’re completely clear, I’m talking about you and Jensen kissing—are you wondering if you might not be completely straight?”

Jared shrugged, his head bowed and his shoulders tensed. He was scared, Jeff realized, expecting to be condemned; treated differently. Jeff didn’t know much about Jared’s family, but he knew they were extremely conservative. He may have just told the kid that he wasn’t his father, but damned if Jeff didn’t feel as if he were right now. This was definitely a father/son talk. Only Jeff had a sneaking suspicion that Jared was a lot better off having it with him than he would be having it with his own father. Jeff leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on the uneasy young man before him.

“Jared,” he kept his voice low and even, “I’m of the view that sexual orientation isn’t a choice. Jesus himself didn’t have anything to say on the subject, but he had a lot to say about love and understanding and reaching out to others in friendship. The gay-hate that’s preached by a lot of so-called Christians disgusts me.” Jeff could see that Jared’s shoulders were a little less tense and his head had come up a fraction.  “I don’t think the Church is right to expect people to refrain from acting on their feelings of attraction,” he continued, “but I do think that people should form loving committed bonds before they act on those feelings. You, of course, may hold a different view to me on all of this.”

“I don’t,” Jared said quickly.

“Then the challenge for you—if you do end up coming to a realization that you’re not straight—would be how to reconcile that fact with your relationship to the Church. And that’s something that only you can decide. I’m always willing to listen, though, and to talk things through, if that’s something that you’d find helpful.”

“Thanks,” Jared’s voice was low. “I’m still…yeah…sorting it all out in my own head, but,” he shrugged, “eventually, that might help.”

“Alright. One final thing. It’s probably better if you don’t rush into anything physical too soon, but if you do decide to be intimate with someone, anything—and I mean _anything_ —that potentially involves an exchange of bodily fluids needs to be done with a condom.”

Jared put his hands over his face with a groan. “Jeff!”

“Don’t _Jeff_ me. This is a health and safety issue. If you put your penis in another person, you wear a condom. If another person puts their penis in you, they wear a condom.” Jeff had given a lot of safe-sex lectures to homeless kids and street hookers in his time and he’d always found that a direct, plain-talking approach worked best. 

Jared flushed and dropped his head to the table with a thud. “I read the pamphlets, okay?” he mumbled.   

“Good. Then you know the no glove, no love rule applies equally to oral, vaginal and anal sex?”

“Yes! Please Jeff, _please_. Just…stop talking. This is so embarrassing!”

Jeff chuckled. “You know what they say, Jared. If you’re not mature enough to talk about it, you’re not mature enough to do it.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” Jared sat up. “Kissing’s alright, though?”

Jeff smiled. “Yeah. Kissing’s fine.”

Jared blushed again. Then smiled. Then reddened ever further when he saw that Jeff was grinning at him.

“You’re happy,” Jeff commented.

Jared nodded.

“According to Sam, Jensen was worried that you were going to hate him in the morning.”

Jared frowned and then titled his head to one side and looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said finally, “I can see how he might look at it,” he sighed. “I guess he’s probably gonna pull away now; try to convince himself it’s a bad idea.”

“Maybe it is,” Jeff ventured.

“Maybe. I know I’m naïve, Jeff, but I’m not stupid. I’m not expecting rainbows and puppies and happily ever after. And I don’t expect someone as worldly and experienced as Jensen to be seriously interested in me, but we could, I don’t know, date a little, maybe?”

Jeff nodded. “And how will you feel when he goes out to work?”

Jared shook his head. “I don’t know. It seems like something that should bother me, but I don’t know that side of him. It’s all kind of abstract.”

It was a good answer; honest and surprisingly astute.

“I know you see Jensen as worldly and experienced,” Jeff said, “but when you consider how young he was when he started working the Boulevard, he might not have a lot of experience when it comes to normal relationships. You might be a literal virgin, Jared, but there’s a good chance that Jensen is an _emotional_ virgin. The two of you dating,” Jeff shook his head. “It ain’t gonna be easy.”

-X-

By the time he woke up on Thursday afternoon, Jensen’s resolve was firm: he was going to stay away from Jared Whatever-the-hell-his-surname-was, and that was final. So what if he was hot? So what if his openness and sunny personality reminded Jensen of happier times? So what if he was exactly the kind of guy Jensen would’ve gone for if his life hadn’t gotten fucked up when he was fifteen? Jensen had a life plan. And Jared was a complication he just didn’t need.

Danneel, who somehow managed to be a hopeless romantic, thought he was an idiot. 

“When two people like each other very much, they go out on dates,” she told him over coffee.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Right. Cuz that’s worked out so well for you. Your last two boyfriends dumped you cuz you wouldn’t quit dancing. Dating and the sex industry do not mix. And Jared? He’s training to be a priest, for fuck’s sake. Even if this whole,” Jensen waved his hands expansively, “gay thing makes him re-think that career path, he’s still got all that Catholic guilt and repression to overcome. And that’s before he even thinks about tackling the ‘oh and the guy I’m dating fucks other guys for money’ issue. Forget about it, Danni. Me and Jared? It ain’t gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that,’ Danni said softly. “I mean, it’s possible.”

Jensen snorted. “Sure, right. It’s possible. I mean, anything’s _possible_ , right? Like it’s _possible_ that we’ll get a black president or that gay marriage’ll get legalized. But neither of those things is gonna happen in my life time, and neither is me and Jared.”

Danneel sighed. “You never know, Jensen. Sometimes the future surprises you.”

They agreed to disagree on that and Jensen went home, aware of Danni’s worried eyes on his back as he sauntered down the corridor to his own apartment. He made plenty of noise going in, but the living room was blessedly empty. 

Jensen showered, changed and put on a pot of fresh coffee before going to bang on Chris’s bedroom door. “Yo, Douchebag, I’m makin’ omelets. You hungry?”

Jensen heard the rustle of bed clothes, the creak of mattress springs and the soft pad of footsteps. The door opened a crack and a disheveled Chris peered out at him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough, “Omelets sound good.”

“How many am I cookin’ for?”

“Just you and me, man.”

Jensen nodded. “It’ll be ready in about ten.”

A slightly more put together Chris arrived in the kitchen just as Jensen was sliding the ham and cheese omelets onto plates. He put a plate and a mug of coffee in front of Chris and then sat opposite him.

Chris ate in silence, his eyes fixed on his food.

“So, you and Steve, huh?” Jensen figured that Chris wasn’t going to mention it, so he may as well get it out in the open. “That’s new.”

Chris swallowed a mouthful of egg. “No it ain’t,” he said.

Jensen paused with a forkful of omelet half way to his mouth. “What d’you mean? How long’s it been goin’ on?”

Chris shrugged. “Couple years. Ain’t no big deal. It’s just something that happens sometimes, is all. Both of us prefer women, but sometimes,” Chris toyed with a piece of ham, “sometimes we both got an itch to scratch.”

Jensen pointed his fork at the older man. “Right. But you’ve always said that you get more dick than you need at work, you don’t need to go looking for it outside of business hours.”

Chris finally looked up, his expression surprisingly vulnerable. “Yeah. But this is Steve.”

Jensen gave up trying to understand and finished off his meal in silence.

“Anyway,” Chris said, “I didn’t think you’d come home last night.  You and the choir boy had that whole sexual tension thing goin’ on. Figured you took him home so you could tap that fine, virgin ass.”

  “Are you kidding? Hooking up with someone like Jared? That has Bad Idea written all over it.”

Chris looked supremely skeptical. “So you honest-to-God just walked him home, no ulterior motive?”

Jensen shrugged. “We may have made out a little on the way, but that’s it. It’s not goin’ any further than that.”

Chris nodded. “You see that it doesn’t. He’s an alright guy, but you don’t need the drama,” Chris snorted. “The hooker and the priest. Clichéd bullshit, man. Shit like that don’t end well.”

“Yeah,” Jensen mumbled, looking down at his plate forlornly. “I know.”

Chris stared at him. “You sappy sonuvabitch. You actually like him, don’t you?”

 “No,” Jensen lied. He gathered up the plates and dumped them in the sink. “So. Thursday. You got that closeted pop star tonight, right? You got any dates set up after that?”

Chris rolled his eyes at the obvious subject change, but he got his phone out anyway. “Nope. I’m at the Guest Inn with Nate from eight ‘til nine, so I’ll be back on the beat by about half past,” he paused. “You’re screwing your way through the legal profession tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Jensen pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up. “I’ve got an Ellie freebie at six—BJ only— then I’ve got Judge Williamson at half seven and an assistant DA at nine.”

Chris stretched. “Alright. Text me after each job, I’ll text you after I finish up with Nate, and we’ll try to meet up about half past ten.” He got to his feet. “I got Monday’s episode of Oz recorded. You wanna watch it before we gotta get ready?”


	9. Chapter Eight

# Chapter Eight

**T** he outreach center’s coffee van was white and unmarked. Jeff drove it along Santa Monica Boulevard slowly, looking for a good place to set up. The van was in a different place each night, depending on how many hustlers were working, where they were set up and where the Salvation Army and LA Youth vans were set up.

Tonight, Jeff parked his van just off the corner of N. Highland Avenue and The Boulevard, in a little group of shops that included an adult bookstore, a pawn broker, a smoke shop, a Chinese Takeout place, a donut shop, a pizza place and a Subway.

“Alright, this’ll do,” he turned to Jared who was sitting hunched up next to him, his hands folded in his lap and his head down. “You okay?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. Just. Nervous, I guess. Don’t really wanna see kids as young as my little brother getting into cars with strange men.”

Jeff nodded. “It’s confronting. And it should be. But we’re here to help.”

They set up the trestle table beside the open side door of the van and then wrestled the giant coffee urn into place. Jeff hooked it up to the generator in the back of the van and turned it on.  The generator was noisy and Jared could feel its vibrations through the soles of his feet. Jeff set out coffee, sugar, creamer, polystyrene cups and wooden stirrers at one end of the table, and then got out the cooler with the sandwiches in it and stood it by the cups. He stuck a sign at the front of the table that said: _Free coffee and sandwiches_. Meanwhile, Jared arranged all their program brochures at the other end. His face blushing scarlet, he filled two large plastic bowls with condoms and sample tubes of lube and then began to tack posters to the side of the van; posters that advocated safe sex, as well as some advertising needle exchange programs, and _Per Vias Rectas’_ sown GED, NA and Job Search programs.

Jeff pulled a couple of folding metal-and-canvas chairs from inside the van and Jared sat down next to him, his arms folded across his chest and his knee bouncing.

Jeff cleared his throat. “So. First rule. Don’t pimp the programs. If they ask about one of them, answer their questions, otherwise, don’t mention them,” his eyes flicked from Jared to the brochures and back again. “They’re working right now and it scares ‘em off if you start telling them to get clean or get their GED or whatever.”

Jared nodded. “No pimping the programs. Got it. What’s the second rule?”

Jeff sighed. “Some of them are gonna proposition you. It’s a power game. Don’t be rude about it, don’t freak out and for the love of all that’s holy, whatever you do, don’t take them up on it.”

Jared was mortified at the suggestion. “I would never!” he frowned. “What should I say?”

“I usually find that ‘I’m not interested, but thanks anyway’ works as well as anything.”

Jared nodded, his gut churning. The red light on the urn went off and Jeff made them both a cup of coffee. As he sipped at the hot liquid, Jared tried not to watch the provocatively dressed young men leaning nonchalantly against fences, walls and street lights or strolling along the curb.

 Jeff cleared his throat. “Some facts and figures for you while we wait for our first customer. Did you know that in Hollywood, forty percent of homeless youth identify as queer?”

Jared turned his head. “Queer?”

“Ah, sorry. I tend to use that as a catch-all phrase: gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transsexual— everything that isn’t heterosexual, really.”

 Jared nodded. “That seems like a lot,” he licked at his lips. “One of the books I was reading yesterday said that only about three or four percent of the population was same-sex attracted. So for nearly half of the street kids to be gay or whatever, that’s pretty massive.”

Jeff agreed and explained that fifty percent of young people who came out to their parents were rejected by them, with twenty-six percent immediately thrown out of the family home. Some had friends or extended family they could go to, but many didn’t. A lot of them—particularly kids from the Bible Belt—gravitated to LA, believing that life would be easier for them in a place that had so many openly queer residents. What they found was a city with too few support services and long waiting lists for shelters and assistance programs.

Not all the kids who came to Hollywood had been thrown out, though. Many of them left home voluntarily soon after coming out—because their parents had become physically and/or verbally abusive, punishing them repeatedly for their sexual-orientation. Sickeningly, half of the lesbians who’d run away had done so after being raped by a father or a brother in an attempt to ‘cure’ them.

While Jared was still trying to come to terms with the horrifying statistics, a skinny blond guy with shoulder-length hair and a Latino guy with a shaved head strode over to the van. As they got closer, Jared could see that the blond’s hair was greasy and he had an eyebrow ring and a lip ring. The Latino guy was very feminine despite the fact that he had a shaved head.

“Hey Jeff,” the blond said. He nodded at Jared. “Is this why you keep turnin’ me down? You got your own Toy Boy?”

Jeff smiled. “Jared is one of our volunteers. Would you like a coffee, Dave?”

“Yeah. Black, two sugars for me, and Carlos’ll take his with sugar and creamer,” Dave dug into the bowl of condoms and pocketed a handful, his eyes never leaving Jared’s. He smiled and Jared automatically smiled back.

“Carla not out tonight?” Jeff said to Carlos. The boy shook his head. “Carla worked a party last night. Tonight her feet are too sore for the stilettos.”

“So are you working?”

 Carlos shook his head. “Carlos don’t do that kind of work. He’s just spottin’ for Dave.”

“You’re cute,” Dave said to Jared. “Normally I’d charge thirty for a blow job, but I’ll do you for twenty-five.”

Jared felt the smile freeze on his face. “Um. Not interested. But thanks anyway.”

Dave leaned in closer. “I’ll do you bareback for thirty-five. Just think about that, baby, my mouth all hot and wet around your swollen cock.”

Jared tried not to think about it, because it actually sounded kind of awesome. Not that he wanted it from Dave. But what he was suggesting—Jared swallowed—he kind of maybe wanted to try that one day.  “You shouldn’t do that without a condom,” he told the hustler. “You might get AIDS.”

Dave’s eyebrow’s shot up.

“Not from me,” Jared clarified hastily. “Because I don’t have, you know, but some people might. So. You shouldn’t offer that.”

“Here’s your coffee,” Jeff interjected. “We’ll be here ‘til one am, so feel free to stop by later.”

The boys wandered back towards the Subway and Jared let out a sigh of relief. “Oh my goodness,” he said. “Are they all gonna be like that?”

“Not _all_ , no. You handled that well, by the way.”

Jared grinned at him. “So who’s Carla? Is she Carlos’s sister?”

Jeff shook his head. “Nope. Carlos is biologically male, but he identifies as transgender; bi-gender, to be exact. When she’s a woman, she’s Carla. When he’s a man, he’s Carlos.”

“Oh. That must be…confusing.”

Jeff shrugged. “It was too confusing for Carlos’s Dad, apparently. He tried his damnedest to beat Carla out of his son.”

Jared took a sip of his coffee and thought about how awful it would be if he were no longer welcome at home. True, he’d been eager to escape the stifling, controlled environment, but to never be allowed back; to be completely cut off from his younger siblings; the thought was frightening.  And all too possible. His dad would never tolerate an openly homosexual child. 

“It’s really not fair, is it?” Jared said. “I don’t get why parents can’t just love their kids unconditionally like they’re supposed to. And why can’t Children’s Services do more to help kids who’ve been thrown out?”

Jeff shrugged. “Resources are limited. And when budgets are tight, homeless youth are an easy target. They don’t vote and they don’t have much of a voice, so they can’t fight back,” Jeff grimaced. “And there’s a sizeable portion of the population who prefer to believe that young people are responsible for their own homelessness. You know, they’re bad kids who choose to live outside of parental authority. So cutting the social services budget and putting more money into law enforcement, it seems more appealing to a certain set of voters,” he took a sip of his coffee and sighed. “On top of that, queer youth have often had such bad experiences with adults that the trust is gone. They don’t feel safe at most drop-in centers or shelters, and they certainly don’t feel safe entering State controlled services such as transitional living, or foster care. And even if they do decide to trust the system, more often than not, their foster parents force them back into the closet or end up throwing them out again, and the whole cycle starts over.”

Jared looked down at his hands. His Church; in fact a lot of Churches; and Mosques and Synagogues too, no doubt; were partly to blame for this. How had the churches allowed parents to think that following Church dogma was more important than their own children? Jared had a sneaking suspicion that Jesus was probably mortified by some of the cruelty that was done in his name.

Over the next hour and a half they had sixteen customers come to the van. Most were guys; a few were girls. Some of the girls were actually guys, and a couple of the guys were actually girls and Jared got really confused about pronouns. Jeff spent a long time explaining about gender dysphoria and pronoun etiquette, which just made Jared’s head spin even more.

About half past nine, Jared saw Chris. He waved, but even though he was positive Chris had seen him, the man completely ignored him and vanished into the shadows over by the pizza place.

“Huh,” Jared frowned. “That was Chris. I guess he didn’t see me.”

“Who?”

“Chris. You know, Jensen’s roommate.”

Jeff nodded. “I know him as Eliot,” he ran a hand over his beard. “When you were out last night, was he with you?”

Jared nodded. “He’s a nice guy. Really protective of his friends. And he’s got a really nice singing voice. Steve too. They’ve got a sort of band thing together.”

Jared had a couple of sandwiches. And another coffee. He tried not to look at the hookers, but it was sort of hard not to. Chris got into a dark blue station wagon and disappeared around the corner in it. He was back within fifteen minutes.

 The air was starting to become bitingly cold and Jared was really pleased that Jeff had lent him a coat. He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. The hookers must be frozen. No wonder they needed regular infusions of hot coffee.

A yellow cab pulled up in front of the donut shop and Jensen got out. Jared stood up and waved. He even remembered to call out ‘Dean’ instead of ‘Jensen’.  Jensen looked at him. Jared wasn’t really close enough to see his expression, but if his body language was anything to go by, he wasn’t especially pleased to see Jared. Jared waved again and held up his coffee cup, pointing to it and then Jensen. Jensen’s chest rose, then fell and he pointed over towards the shadows where Chris was hidden and then headed that way himself.

Jared sank despondently into his seat. It made sense, he supposed. Jensen was working. He probably didn’t have time to chat to Jared. At least he hadn’t ignored him like Chris had done. Jared handed a packet of sandwiches and a coffee to a young guy in a mesh top whose teeth he could practically hear chattering.  Jared would do his job, and Jensen would do his job and everything would be fine.

-X-

Jensen was in a cab on his way to see the assistant DA when Chris texted him.

_> >All good. Back at base. You ok?_

_> >Yeah. Chewed half a pack of gum. Taste of judge’s ass gone…_

_> >Gross. Jeff’s van is here. Your boy is with him._

_> >Jared?_

_> >Who da fuck else? Wanna move to Vine St?_

Jensen thought about it. Maybe seeing Jensen working would scare Jared off; make it easier for Jensen to stay away from him.

_> >Nah. S’a good spot. Not movin for anybody._

Judge Williamson was a sweet old guy in his sixties who like to be rimmed, then fucked. Jensen hated rimming clients, but the judge paid exorbitantly for the privilege and that bought a lot of tolerance. The assistant DA he was seeing next liked to tie him up, blindfold him, then fuck his face, before reaming his ass good and hard. Dan was one of only three clients who Jensen allowed to tie him up and it was something he’d had to earn. He’d been a client for several years and Jensen trusted him—enough to know that he’d never risk his career by creating a scandal involving a dead hooker.

When Jensen left the ADA’s apartment he was buzzing contentedly with endorphins and feeling very well fucked. He was also another four hundred dollars richer and with nine hundred bucks tucked into his boot, he figured he could call it a night. He had a cigarette while he waited for his cab and then nearly fell asleep in the back seat on the short drive to the beat. When he got out, the first thing he saw was Jared, waving his arms excitedly and grinning, his bangs flopping into his eyes.

“Dean!” the kid called. And then he pointed at a coffee cup, then at Jensen.

Jensen wanted to be annoyed. No. Scratch that. He wanted to be indifferent. But seeing Jared made his stomach flip-flop and he could feel his resolve to ignore the kid crumbling. He made a vague hand gesture, trying to indicate that he was going to see Chris and then hurried over to the dark corner near the pizza place where Chris was hiding out. The older man grinned at him.

“Dayum,” Chris gave his twang free rein. “You look like a guy who’s had a good night. I take it the ADA was as satisfactory as usual?”

“Hey!” Jensen pouted. “I worked hard tonight. My ass is gonna be feeling this for days.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah. And you could try not to sound so smug about it.”

Jensen looked across to where Jared was serving coffee and sandwiches to one of the newer kids and Chris sighed. “You’re gonna go and talk to him, aren’t you?”

Jensen bit his bottom lip and then nodded.

“Fine,” said Chris. “But when it all goes south, you go to Danni for the Ben and Jerry’s and the crying, cuz I don’t wanna hear about it.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “You done for the night? Cuz I’m way too fucked out to turn any more tricks.”

Chris nodded. “Did a couple BJs while I was waiting for you, so my wallet is nicely filled. So yeah. Whenever you’re ready.”

Jensen said he’d just be a minute and made a beeline for Jared.

The kid broke into a huge grin when he noticed that Jensen was heading toward him and Jensen restrained an eye roll. He shook a cigarette out of the packet, put it between his lips and lit up, drawing back and exhaling before coming to a stop before Jared.

“Hi Jensen. You having a good night?”

“I am. You?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. It’s been…interesting.”

Jensen barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“Would you like a coffee and a sandwich?”

Jensen stiffened. “I’m not homeless, Jared. I can afford my own food.”

“I know you can. It’s just,” Jared bit his bottom lip. “If I worked in the donut shop, I’d want to give you free coffee and donuts, just cuz I could. It’s not about thinking you can’t afford it.”

Jensen’s face softened. “If you worked in the donut shop, I’d let you. Save Jeff’s coffee and sandwiches for the people who really need it,” he took a final drag on his cigarette, and then squashed it under his foot. “How did you pull up this morning?”

Jared pulled a face. “Hangovers are so not cool. I felt horrible for most of the day. But I’m okay now,” he worried at his lip again. “I had a really good time last night, Jensen, and I’m so grateful that you looked after me and made sure I got home safely.”

Jensen glanced uncomfortably at Jeff. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m sorry about kissing you. That was out of line.”

Jared shook his head. “No it wasn’t. It was the best part of the evening. And I’m not sorry about it. Not at all. In fact. Do you maybe wanna go out with me sometime over the weekend?”

What? Jensen blinked. _What_? Did shy, innocent Jared just ask Jensen-the-hooker out on a date?  He glanced at Jeff again and then ran a hand across his mouth before leaning in toward Jared. “Uh. Are you trying to book me?” he asked.

“What?” Jared frowned. “Book…? I…Oh! _No_! I don’t want to have sex with you, Jensen.” Jared tilted his head and seemed to consider that. “I mean … maybe … maybe one day,” he blushed. “I was thinking dinner and a movie.”

Jensen stared at Jared. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You don’t need to go to all that trouble. I’m a sure thing; you get that right?”

Jared frowned at him. “I am not interested in booking Dean,” he said slowly. “I am interesting in dating Jensen. You must’ve been on dates before.”

Jensen nodded. “Spectacular failures. Both of them.”

Jared grinned. “Well you and me? Failure is not an option. So. When can you get a night off?”

“Um. Hang on.” Jensen checked his phone. “How about…Sunday?”

Jared beamed. “Great. Give me your phone number.” Jared produced a pen and grabbed an NA brochure to write on. Jensen rattled off his number. “Awesome. How about you meet me at Jeff’s place at seven on Sunday and we’ll go and find somewhere to have dinner?”

“Okay,” said Jensen. He rather liked this confident, seize-the-day version of Jared. “We’ll…yeah. I’ve, uh, gotta go now,” he pointed a thumb back toward Chris. “See you ‘round.”

Jensen lit another cigarette as he and Chris headed home.

“Your boy okay?”

Jensen nodded. “He asked me out on a date.”

Chris stopped walking. “Oh man. He booked you?”

“No, Chris. He asked me out on a date. A date date. Dinner and a movie,” Jensen beamed, looking every bit as pathetically excited as Jared had, and Chris shook his head and muttered something about how Jensen better not turn into a girl or he’d have to move in with Danneel.

-X-

Jared was re-stocking the brochure racks when the hairs on the back of his neck started to tingle. He turned slowly to find a medium height, medium build guy with messy dark hair, stubble and bright blue eyes staring at him. He was wearing flared jeans with flip flops and a burnt orange knitted cardigan decorated with frolicking lambs.

Jared’s eyes widened. “Can I help you?” he asked.

The man tilted his head to one side. “I expect so. Next time I need to reach something down from a high shelf, I shall definitely ask for your help.”

“Okay,” Jared smiled kindly because his mom had told him you should always be kind to crazy people. “Is there anything I can help you with right now?”

The man nodded. “Firstly, you can stop smiling like a loon. And then you can tell me where Jeff is.”

“And you are?”

The man stared at him. “Getting impatient. Where is Jeff?”

“Misha!” Sam came out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here? You’re not rostered on for today.” She pulled the man—Misha—into an embrace and then winked at Jared.

“Did you meet our newest recruit? Father Michael sent him to us on a sort of journeyman’s year,” she straightened up. “Jared, this is Misha. Misha, Jared.”

Blue eyes turned to Jared, assessing him. “Not a delinquent doing community service. A trainee priest. Huh.” Misha ran a hand over his chin. “Sam, where is Jeff?”

“He’s picking Gen up from the hospital. Why?”

Misha leaned back against a book shelf and folded his arms across his chest. “Gen asked me to pick up some stuff from her apartment, only when I arrived, Mark was there. He was pissed that I wasn’t Gen. We had a, uh, difference of opinion about whether I could collect her belongings or not. He was pretty adamant that she had to come get them herself, so I figured I’d make a tactical retreat and go back with Jeff. Mark listens to Jeff. More than to anyone else, anyway.”

 Sam harrumphed. “Well Gen shouldn’t go anywhere near the place; not if he’s there. He’ll try to woo her back, the seductive bastard.”

Misha nodded. “That was my thought.”

“I’ll call Jeff for you,” Sam got her cell phone out.

Misha’s eyes widened and he ducked behind a book shelf with a squeak.

Jared stuck his head around the corner. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t bring my tinfoil hat with me,” Misha said, “and I don’t want to get brain cancer from the waves that the cell phone sends out.”

Jared smiled at him, kindly.

Sam peered around the corner of the book shelf, cell phone tucked safely away. “Jeff says he’s gonna be a while; he’s caught up helping Gen with all the hospital paperwork. He suggested that you take Jared with you to get Gen’s stuff.”

Misha stared at her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Sam quirked an eyebrow. “No. But Jared’s training for the priesthood and Mark will respect that. Also? The boy is rather tall.” She turned to Jared. “Would you mind giving Misha a hand picking Gen’s stuff up?”

Jensen lived near Danneel; if Jared went to her place to drop stuff off for Gen, there was a slim chance he might run into him.

“Happy to help,” he said. “I take it Mark is her boyfriend? Or former boyfriend?”

 Sam shrugged. “Mark is Gen’s pimp. He beat her up for going to the cops about a violent trick, so she reported him too. He has a reputation as a ruthless devil, but he’s usually civil; to us anyway. If you don’t feel comfortable doing this, that’s fine, but I don’t think it’ll be dangerous.”

Jared didn’t know Gen, but he admired her bravery. If she could stand up to bad guys, he figured he could too.

-X-

Misha had a motorcycle, which came complete with a side car shaped like a coffin.

“That’s comforting,” Jared muttered.

Misha grinned and handed him a helmet that looked like a skull.

“An entirely accurate indication of my riding skills, I assure you,” he said.

By the time Jared had figured out that that sentence was anything but reassuring, he’d already squished his long legs into the side car and put on the helmet. He watched Misha start the bike with trepidation. Flip flops didn’t really seem like sensible footwear for riding a motorcycle.

Jared had never met a pimp before, but Mark turned out to be very ordinary. Despite Jared’s initial fears that there might be some pushing and shoving and shouting involved in this adventure, the process of retrieving Gen’s belongings was actually rather anti-climactic. Jared introduced himself to Mark, explained his background, and told him why he and Misha were there. Mark clapped him on the shoulder and told him to do what he had to, before asking where Gen was staying.

Jared shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Jeff. I’m sorry.”

Mark folded his arms and leaned back against the kitchen table.

“I will find her,” he said. “And when I do, she will let me in. You can count on it.”

Jared decided it was best to just smile and nod, while Misha seemed content to side-eye Mark with a healthy dose of malice.  Mark didn’t say another word, just watched them with hooded eyes.

Jared and Misha left the apartment with a hot pink suitcase, a box, two black garbage bags and a small African violet. Jared couldn’t even begin to imagine what he must look like, zooming down the road in a coffin wearing a skull helmet and balancing a hot pink suitcase and an African violet on his lap.  If anyone had asked him a week ago what he thought he’d be doing today, he never would’ve guessed this.

It was Jensen who opened the front door at Danneel’s place.  His eyes lit on Jared and widened, his eyebrows shooting up and his mouth falling open just a little.

“Hi, Jensen,” Jared said and shoved the African violet into his hands.

“Oh baby, you shouldn’t have,” Jensen batted his eyelashes.

“I didn’t. It’s Gen’s.”

A squeal pierced Jared’s ears and he found himself with an armful of small, dark-haired girl.

“Thank you, whoever-you-are! I didn’t think I would ever see Vincent again. I was sure Mark would hold him hostage.”

Beyond the girl, Jared could see Jeff holding a coffee cup and hovering awkwardly in the kitchen doorway. Chris was sprawled on a bean bag and Danneel was sitting on the couch, painting her toenails.

“I’m Jared,” he extricated himself from the smothering hug. “And you must be Gen. But who’s Vincent?”

Gen grabbed her suitcase from Jared’s hand. “My plant.”

Misha sidled past Jensen carrying the box and the garbage bags.

“Misha,” Jensen nodded at him, as he shut the door.

“Dean. Or Jensen?” Misha queried.

Jensen eyed him cautiously. “Dean’s just a working name,” he said finally.

Misha nodded. He put Gen’s stuff down at her feet, and then leaned in toward Jared. “ _Jensen_ doesn’t like me,” he stage-whispered. “He doesn’t approve of my profession.”

Jensen’s mouth fell open. “Dude! That is so not true!”

He turned to Jared. “I was walking home from the grocery store one day and this guy,” he gestured at Misha, “comes up to me and tells me I have a lot of negative energy and that my something-or-other is blocked—”

“Your sacral chakra,” Misha interjected solemnly. “It’s looking a little clearer now, though. I sense that you’ve been making positive connections.”

Jensen blinked at him and then turned back to Jared. “And then he hands me a flyer for his yoga studio and tells me he can teach me how to be flexible enough to suck my own dick.” 

Jeff choked on his coffee and Jared looked mortified.

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded at Jeff. “Exactly. You can see why I was freaked, right?”

“I just thought it might be a handy skill,” Misha protested. “You know, a unique selling point to attract clients.”

Jensen gaped at him. “Nobody’s gonna pay me to suck _my own_ dick!” he said incredulously.

Misha inclined his head and stared at Jensen with unblinking blue eyes.

 “Shit, son,” Chris contemplated Misha with an awe-filled expression. “Can you really suck your own dick?”

Misha turned his gaze on Chris. “In theory.”

Chris cackled. “Oh come on, man, don’t tell me you’ve never tried.

Misha smiled wickedly, before turning to Gen and asking her how she was feeling.

“I’m getting there. Jeff’s been great.”

“Glad I could help,” Jeff moved in and gave Gen a hug, “but I’ve gotta get back to the drop-in center. Let’s go Jared.”

Danneel bounded up from the sofa, cotton balls between her toes, and threw an arm around Jared’s shoulders. “Let him stay. We’re gonna get Gen settled in and then watch some movies.”

Jeff looked hesitant, his eyes flicking from Jared to Jensen to Danneel.

Danneel smiled and twisted her hair around her fingers. “Come on, Jeff. He should be spending more time with people his own age. You know, catching up on all the pop culture he’s missed out on.”

Jeff looked at Jared. “You wanna stay?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. If…if you don’t need me.”

“Alright,” Jeff nodded. “But I want you home by midnight, okay?”

Misha stayed for a little while longer. He helped Gen unpack and then made her move the futon to the other side of the room because it had bad feng shui where it was. He left while they were choosing a selection of movies to watch, because Danni wouldn’t let him roll a joint in her apartment.

Danni made two bowls of microwave popcorn and put them on the coffee table. Chris reclaimed the bean bag and Jared, Jensen, Danneel and Gen squished onto the sofa together. The first movie they watched was _The Shawshank Redemption_ , which Jared had never seen before. After about fifteen minutes Jensen went and sat on the floor between Jared’s legs so that he could have a cigarette without getting smoke in anyone’s face. When he leaned against Jared’s thigh, Jared forgot how to breathe and when he remembered that he had to, he gasped air into his lungs in shaky bursts, earning himself a long, contemplative look from Gen.   They watched _The Truman Show_ next. Jared had never seen that either. Chris went and fetched a six pack of beer from his and Jensen’s apartment about half way through, muttering that the movie freaked him the fuck out. Jared refused the offer of a beer, the memory of Wednesday night’s hangover still fresh in his mind, but Chris and Jensen had two each. After his first beer, Jensen disappeared into Danni’s kitchen and came back a moment later with a bowl that he handed to Jared.

“Ice cream,” he said. “Ben and Jerry’s. Chocolate fudge brownie.”

Jared took the bowl with a grin and dug in. The moan he made when the flavor first hit his tongue was positively pornographic and the way his tongue kept darting out to lick at his lips was almost obscene. Jensen thought that he could probably get off just watching Jared eat ice cream. 

Danneel switched the television off after _The Truman Show_ and announced that she had to go to work.

Jensen stood up and stretched. “Me and Chris have to go too,” he looked at Jared. “I’m meeting up with a regular, but I won’t be long. You maybe wanna hang around? Keep Gen company?”

Jared looked to Danneel and Gen for confirmation and when they both nodded, he agreed that he would.

When the others had gone, there was a moment of awkward silence and then Gen turned to him. “So. You and Jensen, huh?”

Jared shrugged. “Maybe. It’s all a bit,” he sighed and then explained his background and the events of the last week. Gen nodded and asked empathic questions. There was something sweet about her, Jared decided; something that made her easy to talk to.

“Wow,” said Gen when he’d finished. “That’s…how do you feel about the, you know, the orientation discovery?”

“Scared?” he stared down at Jensen’s ashtray where half a dozen butts were squashed in the ash. “In my heart,” he said, “I don’t believe God makes mistakes. So if I’m not attracted to girls, then that’s how God made me. And I don’t believe He makes people to be alone and miserable. I just…don’t believe He would do that. In fact, it was something I had trouble with, even at the monastery. And contraception. That never seemed wrong either. I guess I already had doubts  about some aspects of Church doctrine and the books Jeff gave me to read just sort of solidified some of the things I was already thinking. And then,” Jared paused and ran a hand through his hair, “when it’s personal; when you know how you feel in your heart. It didn’t feel wrong, Gen, the way I felt when…when he kissed me.”

Gen slipped her hand through the crook of Jared’s arm. “And what about the elephant in the room?” she asked.

Jared frowned. “Elephant? I…what?”

Gen ducked her head and stared up at him. “He’s a hooker, Jared. How did you feel just now when he left to go and have sex with a client?”

“Oh. That elephant.” Jared sighed. “Honestly? Where his body’s at isn’t as important to me as where his heart’s at. I know I’m naïve; I know that’s probably just me speaking from a place of ignorance. And maybe that’ll change once we’ve…done more than just kiss.  Maybe I’ll want…exclusivity and get upset about the, the,” Jared made a vague gesture, “the jobs. But right now? It feels like anything’s possible.”

Gen pulled her hand from Jared’s arm and hauled herself around so that she was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, facing him. “I’ve been turning tricks since I was too young to know better,” she said, “and I’ve never had a decent boyfriend. They either pimped me out, or they did drugs, or they said they didn’t care about my job and then beat me up because they did. Sometimes all three. If you can’t handle the job, just walk away. Don’t blame him. Don’t make him hate himself.”

Jared nodded, taking Gen’s words to heart, and she smiled and patted his thigh. “You like pizza? I was thinking I’d order one.”

After the family-sized meat lover’s pizza (which Jared ended up paying for because he ate most of it) they watched _The Sound of Music_.  Jared had seen it too many times to count, usually curled up with his mom and his siblings in mom’s big bed, on one of the evenings when Dad was away for work and Mom had given Nanny the night off. He loved the movie’s beautiful scenery, he loved the music, and he loved the way Christopher Plummer looked in that Austrian navy uniform. So okay, Jared smiled wryly to himself, maybe the signs had been there for a while, if only he’d known what to look for. Gen had never seen the movie, which Jared found hard to believe given that it was one of the most popular musicals of all time. When he shared that fact with Gen, she giggled and poked him in the ribs.  “So gay, Jared. _So_ gay.”

Maria and the children had just started performing _The Lonely Goatherd_ when there was a knock at the door. It was Jensen. He smelled of cigarettes and Irish Spring and his hair was still damp. He joined Jared on the sofa and sat pressed up against him.

“Everything go okay?” Jared asked.

Jensen nodded. “One of my VIP clients. He’s a good guy.”

“Did you eat? Me and Gen had pizza.”

Jensen’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “Yeah. Chinese,” his eyes flicked between Jared and Gen. “You guys have fun tonight?”

“Tons of fun,” Gen rolled her eyes. “Jared told me all about musicals, and how much he appreciates a man in uniform, and how much he likes kissing you.”

The slight tightness around Jensen’s eyes lessened and his body relaxed almost imperceptibly. If they hadn’t been in shoulder-to-knee contact, Jared wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to tell.

By the time Maria and Captain Von Trapp got married, Gen had gone to bed, citing a combination of pain killers and utter boredom as her reason for hitting the hay.

“Do you mind if I lie down on the sofa?” Jared said when she’d gone.

Jensen moved to the floor and lit a cigarette and Jared stretched himself out, lying on his side and facing the screen. Once Jensen had finished smoking, Jared tugged on his arm. “Wasn’t trying to kick you off the sofa. There’s plenty of room.”

Jensen ran a hand across his mouth and looked more uncertain than Jared had ever seen him look. His tongue darted out and swiped at his lips and then he got up and lay himself down in front of Jared, his back pressed against Jared’s chest and his ass pressed against his groin. To his chagrin, Jared could feel himself getting hard.

“Uh,” he tried to pull away but was stymied by the back of the sofa.

Jensen chuckled, which only served to stimulate Jared even further. Jensen took hold of Jared’s hand and pressed it to his own groin. “Me too,” he whispered.

Jared swallowed. He’d never. He was touching. Oh dear Lord. He pulled his hand away, his breathing ragged.

“Too much?” said Jensen.

Jared’s laugh was shaky. “I know, I know. I’m totally clueless, right? You probably think I’m such a child.”

“Hardly. I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought that,” Jensen relaxed against Jared and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Jared to throw an arm over him.  “I didn’t really get to start slow,” Jensen said, “to just make out and mess around like teenagers are supposed to. It’s actually kinda nice.”

Jared felt immediately lighter. “Can we kiss again?” he asked hopefully.

In reply, Jensen turned around and pressed his lips to Jared’s.

The kiss was slower this time. Softer too; just lips against lips at first, but then Jensen nipped lightly at Jared’s bottom lip and Jared moaned, his mouth falling slightly open, and that was all the invitation Jensen needed. He licked his way into Jared’s mouth, tonguing him gently but insistently, and Jared? Jared was panting into Jensen’s mouth, probably stealing his air too, because Lord knows, he didn’t have any of his own. He wiggled and he squirmed until he was lying on his back and Jensen was on top of him, in between his legs and holding his head, angling it just right so that he could plunder his mouth thoroughly. In this position, Jared could feel Jensen’s hard cock pressed against his and he thought he might just hyperventilate. He thrust up against him on instinct and then broke off the kiss with an embarrassed groan. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so turned on right now I…I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Jensen leaned down and kissed him softly. “It’s okay. You want me to blow you?”

Jared whimpered and put his hands over his face.

“I…no. I don’t want you being all, you know, _professional_. And I don’t want to rush into anything. I just want us to make out a little.”

Jensen pulled Jared’s hands away from his face and kissed him again.

“Not being _professional_ ,’ he said. “I just…I’ve kinda been fantasizing about getting you in my mouth ever since I put my hands on you in the drop-in center that time. I know people always say that size doesn’t matter, but it does Jared. Nothing turns me on more than a guy with a nice, big—”

“Jensen!” Jared blushed.  The thought of Jensen’s mouth on him was doing nothing to calm his straining erection. “That’s…I mean…maybe one day. We haven’t even been on an official date yet.”

   The shy smile that spread across Jensen’s face was possibly the most adorable thing that Jared had ever seen. Also? As up close and personal as they were, Jared could see that Jensen had a light smattering of freckles across his nose.

“What a gentleman,” Jensen said. His tone was lightly teasing, but the warmth in his eyes and the softness of his smile suggested to Jared that he meant it.

Jared leaned up and kissed Jensen again, and then pushed on his shoulders. Jensen sat back on his knees, palming himself subtly before rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

“What time is it?” Jared pulled himself upright.

Jensen checked his phone. “Almost eleven.”

Jared nodded. “I’m gonna go home. I’m working at the drop-in center tomorrow, so I probably shouldn’t be too late getting to bed.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

Jared shook his head. “Then who’s gonna walk you home?”

Jensen smiled and ruffled Jared’s hair. “These are my streets, Jare. I’ve been walkin’ ‘em for years. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

Jared knew that. He also knew that he would worry about Jensen regardless. 


	10. Chapter Nine

# Chapter Nine

**J** ensen surfaced slowly, a ribbon of warmth across his cheek where the light had cut through his bent venetian blinds and striped his bed with sunshine.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. For some reason, the morning seemed welcoming. For some reason, he didn’t feel like rolling over, pulling his blankets over his head and going straight back to sleep. For some reason, his belly and chest were filled with a strange sort of lightness.

It took Jensen a long moment to realize that what he was feeling was pure, unadulterated joy.  For the first time in a long while, Jensen was actually keen to get up and face the day. Because…he frowned.

Because…

…He wanted to see Jared.

Just thinking his name made Jensen’s stomach flip-flop with delight and he groaned and folded an arm over his face. Chris was right; he was a stupid, sappy sonuvabitch. Falling for a guy like Jared was just plain dumb and Jensen would pay for it in spades, he was sure of it.

Didn’t stop him getting up and ready and heading down to the drop-in center with a spring in his step; although he pulled up sharply and had a stern word with himself when he caught himself humming Metallica.  It was probably too little, too late, though. The horse had already bolted; the ship had already sailed. Jensen Ackles was willingly out of bed (and practically skipping) before midday; it was a sure sign of the apocalypse. That or he was developing _feelings_ for a guy, which was more or less the same thing.

Jensen didn’t immediately see Jared when he walked through the drop-in center’s front door, but he did spy Jeff flitting amongst the lunch tables, chatting to people and clapping them on the shoulder like some type of Maître de in a fancy restaurant; Jensen had been to one or two in his time, usually with Seb, and the cutlery wasn’t anything like as hard to figure out as Julia Roberts had made it out to be. And no-one had tried to make him eat snails either; just as well because he would definitely have rammed them, shells and all, down the throat of anyone who’d tried.

A frantically waving arm caught his attention and he grinned. Jared was serving lunch and had managed to slop bolognaise sauce down his front in his eagerness to attract Jensen’s attention. He shook his head in Jared’s direction and then laughed when Jared lifted his shirt to his lips and licked the sauce off.

“Jensen!” Jeff skated to a stop at Jensen’s elbow, looking relieved. “Thank goodness. I could really do with a hand, buddy.”

Jeff was straight as an arrow and he didn’t dabble in trade like some of the so-called do-gooders did; that much Jensen knew. But still. If ‘I could do with a hand’ wasn’t code for ‘I need your hand down my pants in the men’s room’ or something along those lines, then Jensen was a little stumped. What could Jeff possibly need his help with?

“What with?” Jensen knew he sounded surly and that the fake smile he’d plastered onto his face didn’t reach his eyes, but it was the best he could manage until he knew where he stood.

“Do you remember Flick? From Wednesday?”

Jensen shook his head.

“You served her,” Jeff persisted. “She wasn’t doing so good. Remember? I think you and I both thought that she’d be lucky to keep her lunch down.”

 Jensen remembered.  Red hair and shaking hands.

“What about her?” he asked.

“She passed out over her lunch just now. I was gonna call an ambulance, but she came ‘round and ran out on me. I really don’t think she’s a well girl.”

“Prob’ly not. She _is_ a crack whore.”  Jensen didn’t quite see what this had to do with him.

“She can’t have got far,” Jeff added.

Jensen nodded. Jeff was probably right about that.

Why was Jeff looking at him expectantly? Was he supposed to say something here? He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well…she’s not unconscious and drowning in her own vomit on the sidewalk out front. So you don’t have to worry about bad publicity for the drop-in center or whatever.”

Jeff stared at him. “I’m worried about _her_ , Jensen.”

“Okay,” Jensen nodded. “Well, touching though this sharing and caring and talking about your feelings has been, is there anything I can do to help today or should I just go make faces at Jared while he’s working?”

Jeff lifted his eyes heavenward and rubbed at his forehead. “I was hoping you might go and see if you could find Flick,” Jeff held a card out to him. “A friend of mine runs this shelter. I’m pretty sure Flick’s sleeping rough at the moment and that’s no good for her if she’s sick. Jim’ll take her if she tells him I sent her.”

Jensen licked at his lips. “She doesn’t have a cold or something, Jeff, she’s a crack addict. Shelters don’t allow drugs; she’s not gonna go to one,” he sighed and took the card. “But I’ll go look for her if it’ll make you feel better.”

He found her half a block away, sitting cross-legged against a cracked brick wall, rocking back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Jensen went and sat next to her. She didn’t even look at him, just muttered, “Fifteen for a BJ, twenty uncovered.”

Jensen laughed. “You ain’t got enough dick for me, Sweetheart. And even if you did, I’d be selling not buying. Not that you could afford me.”

She looked at him then, a nervous frown on her face. “I’m not holding,” she said.

“And I’m not lookin’ to score. Jeff sent me. Wanted me to give you this,” he handed her the card.

She looked at it and snorted. “A shelter? Yeah. Right.”

Jensen sighed. “You got somewhere to stay tonight?” He was probably going to regret this. What was that saying? No good deed goes unpunished.

She nodded. “I’ve got a tarp under the overpass.”

“You know the warehouse over on West Sunset?”

“The squat?”

“Ask for Gino. Tell him Dean sent you.”

Flick snorted again. “No thanks. But maybe I’ll give it a try next time I wanna get all my shit stolen.”

Jensen shrugged. “Your call. But I know Gino. He’s a good guy; been running that place for years,” he hesitated, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “I crashed there for a while, four, five years back. You’ll be safe.”

Flick looked him up and down. “Seriously? You’ve been out here that long?”

Jensen nodded.

“Wow. I’ve been out here hustling and begging for,” she frowned, “about eight months. And look at me. I’ll prob’ly be dead in a year. But…look at you. You’re…wow. I mean, not enough tits for me personally, but still. Wow. What’s the secret?”

“The secret? Don’t do crack. Or anything else that’s addictive.”

Flick rolled her eyes and, yeah, Jensen recognized that look; he’d worn it on his own face often enough back when he was still using.

“I get it,” he said. “You smoke crack so you can do the job and you do the job so that you can afford the crack. You’re caught in a loop. But the only way out is to do something different. So. Get off the crack. You’ll hook better quality clients, they’ll pay better, and you won’t be spending it all on crack so you’ll be able to live healthier. Maybe even get some money put aside. Once you’ve got some savings, you’ll be able to afford to get out of the life.” Flick was staring down at the sidewalk, her long hair obscuring her face. “But, hey,” Jensen said “It’s your life. I ain’t gonna tell you how to live it. You asked my advice. That’s it.”

He stood up, brushed off his pants, and made his way back to the drop-in center.

Jeff was still moving among the diners, stopping to chat amicably with people as he made his way slowly around the room. He straightened when Jensen entered and excused himself to the woman he was talking to, before hurrying over.

“She’s alright,” Jensen said.

“Did you give her the card?”

“Yeah. She won’t go, though. She needs a fix too bad.”

Jeff’s shoulder’s drooped and he looked so sad that Jensen took pity on him.

“I told her to go to Gino’s. You know? The warehouse over on West Sunset?”

Jeff frowned, his lips thinning, and Jensen held his hand up, before the older man could voice his disapproval. “She’ll get four walls, a roof and a mattress there, which is better than what she’s got now. Also? Gino’s a good guy. It ain’t perfect, but if things were perfect, she wouldn’t be out here in the first place,” he waited a beat and when Jeff didn’t contradict him, he said. “Anything else I can help with?”

   Jeff put Jensen to work collecting dirty plates and helping Chad to stack the dishwasher, wash the pots and pans, and take fresh plates and cutlery out to the servers when they needed it.

Chad was wickedly gleeful to find himself working alongside Jensen. “I hear you and the Padre are going out on a date,” he said.

“What of it?”

Chad cackled. “It’s like this porno I saw once where this priest was sticking it to this hooker,” he frowned. “The hooker was a chick, but still.”

“Chad!” Jared was standing in the kitchen with his hands on his hips and his expression severe. “Are you confusing reality with porn again?”

Chad shrugged and went back to washing pots. Jared relaxed his stance and grinned at Jensen. “I just came to tell you guys we need some more plates out there.”

“On it,” Jensen said. The dishwasher hadn’t finished its cycle, but there were a dozen washed plates in the dish rack and Jensen grabbed a tea-towel and began drying them off. He gave a handful to Jared to take out straight away and when the rest were dry he carried them out to the servers himself, taking the opportunity to pinch Jared on the ass. Jared squealed and jumped and Jensen tried to snigger and look innocent at the same time. He caught Jeff looking at them fondly and that just made him uncomfortable, so he slunk back into the kitchen and started drying cutlery.

Jensen was head down, ass up in a cupboard, putting away pots, when he heard a familiar voice call Chad’s name.

“Hey, Tom,” Chad replied.

Well this was awkward. Jensen was tempted to see if he could keep his head in the cupboard until Tom went away, but that would probably look stupid, and besides, he’d promised himself a long time ago that he was never going to be ashamed about any of the things he’d had to do to survive. So.

Jensen stood and turned and found himself staring up at full lips and big blue eyes which widened at the sight of him.

“Jensen! What are you…are you volunteering here?”

“Yeah,” Jensen stepped forward and offered his hand. “Good to see you again, Tom.”

Tom shook his hand and beamed. “And in much better circumstances too. You look great. Are you keeping out of mischief?”

The corners of Jensen’s mouth twisted in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ah, you know me, Tom. Mischief pays the bills.”

Tom’s smile dimmed a little. “What about the five year plan?”

“Stretched out to seven years. But it’s on track.  I could probably go now, but I wanna have plenty behind me when I do. I’m good, Tom, honestly.”

Tom nodded. “And Chris?”

“Yeah, he’s good too.”

“He and Steve still got the band?”

Jensen shrugged. “Off and on. They’re trying to get back into it at the moment. They’re playing a couple sets at _The Hole in the Wall_ on Tuesday night. Why don’t you come and see for yourself. You still with that actor?”

“Mike, yeah.”

Chad made a small noise, attracting Tom’s attention.

“What about you, Mayhem?” Tom said with a smile. “You keeping outta mischief?”

Chad nodded. “How is Mike?”

“Good. He landed a small part in a pilot, but it didn’t get picked up. What about you? You working?”

Chad said that he’d had a few auditions, nothing too exciting. Jensen hadn’t realized that Chad was an actor, but then this was Hollywood; it wasn’t really a surprise.  He busied himself unloading the dishwasher and let Chad and Tom’s conversation flow over his head. He heard enough to gather that Chad and Mike had been friends until some kind of big bust up; Chad was currently on probation; and Tom was his PO, just as he’d been Jensen’s several years ago.

Chad was unusually subdued after Tom left and Jensen worked alongside him in silence until Jeff came and asked him to come and help clear out the last of the stragglers and collect their plates for washing. When he went back into the kitchen, Jared and Chad were talking quietly together and Jensen thought it was kind of bizarre how they seemed to have forged a friendship that worked, despite being so very different. Then again, he himself was sort of dating Jared—and he and Jared couldn’t be more different.

Jensen cleared his throat. “What are you doing this afternoon?” he asked Jared.

“Resting. I’m working with Chad over at the Greater West Hollywood Food Coalition from six ‘til eight and then I’m in the coffee van with Rob from nine ‘til one. So I’m planning a quiet afternoon.”

“You wanna come over to my place and watch a couple movies?”

Chad waggled his eyebrows. “Is that secret hooker code for getting down and dirty?”

Jared smacked the back of his head, and then agreed to go and watch movies at Jensen’s place.

Later, the two of them were stretched out on Jensen’s bed watching _The Terminator_ , with plans to also watch _Terminator 2_ , neither of which Jared had seen before.

Jared was delighted by Jensen’s king-sized bed. The bed in Jeff and Sam’s spare room was a standard single and Jared had to sleep hunched up or his feet stuck off the end.

“And my back’s really not too happy about that,” he grouched to Jensen.

Jensen shoved at his hip. “Roll onto your stomach. I’ll give you a massage.”

Jared chewed at his bottom lip uncertainly and Jensen rolled his eyes. “No, that’s not hooker code for ‘I’ll fuck you through the mattress.’ I’m planning on studying physical therapy, remember? Massage is a part of that.”

Jared flopped onto his stomach and Jensen tried really hard—and mostly unsuccessfully—to keep his thoughts rated PG-13.

 Jensen had magic fingers, if he did say so himself, and Jared was soon drooling into the mattress. It was actually really unattractive and made Jensen laugh.

In between T1 and T2 Jensen went out to the kitchen and got snacks; a bag of Gummi Bears, a tube of Pringles, and a can of Pepsi each. The way Jared’s eyes lit up at the sight of the Gummi Bears was kind of adorable. He grabbed at the bag and mashed a handful of candy into his mouth, a look of rapture on his face. By the time he’d drunk his Pepsi and inhaled half the bag of Gummi Bears, Jared was high. He spoke so fast that Jensen could barely understand him and he snuggled close to Jensen with a lot less reticence than usual, tugging at the waistband of Jensen’s jeans whenever he wanted his attention, and reacting verbally to just about everything that happened on screen.

When T2 finished, Jensen walked Jared to the food line at the corner of Romaine Street and Sycamore Avenue, and then went home to get ready for work. It sounded dorky to admit it, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much plain and simple fun or laughed so hard. Being with Jared made him feel like the teenager he’d never had a chance to be. Jensen wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.  

-X-

Jensen arrived at Jared’s place at exactly seven pm. His momma had been a stickler for punctuality and her lessons had been reinforced—and then some—by a regular he’d had a few years ago who was seriously into domination and control. Jensen had still been desperate for money back then and he’d taken the gig, even though it wasn’t really his thing. He didn’t mind the occasional bit of rough play, but this guy was hardcore. He was big on orgasm denial, which Jensen hated, and he insisted on spanking Jensen’s ass ten times for every minute Jensen was late to an appointment.  He’d once been ten minutes late because Chris had gotten them into a fight with a carload of drunken frat boys. Never again. His ass had been bruised for over two weeks.

Jensen pressed the buzzer and waited. The door clicked and unlocked and Sam’s cheerful voice invited him in. Jensen frowned. He’d been expecting Jared to come down.

Sam was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She pulled him into a hug and looked so genuinely happy to see him that Jensen was a little thrown.

Jeff was washing dishes in the kitchen and he gave Jensen a soapy salute and a nod.

“Jared’s in the bathroom again,” Sam said, indicating that Jensen should take a seat. “I think he’s a little nervous.”

Jensen didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t _expect_ anything, Sam. He knows that, right?”   

“Oh yes,” Sam nodded. “It’s just that he’s never been on a date before. And he likes you a lot.”

Jensen couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face.

“I’m happy for the both of you,” Sam said, “but you have some pretty big hurdles ahead of you; I hope you realize that.” She paused and tilted her head to one side. “I think last night gave him some food for thought.”

Nowadays, most of Jensen’s work was arranged over the phone, his regular clients calling his cell to make bookings. He also got a fair number of word-of-mouth referrals, new clients who’d been given his cell phone number by a regular.  Jensen didn’t really need to go out on the beat anymore, but he still did; partly to keep Chris company—Chris didn’t have as many regulars as Jensen—but mostly because he thought it was important to keep up a presence on the street. After all, just because he had a large stable of regulars now, didn’t mean that would always be the case.  He’d done the hard yards, earned the right to the best spot on the beat, and damned if he was going to lose that privilege because he wasn’t out there staking his claim. On Saturdays, most of his regulars were busy with their families and it was rare for Jensen to actually have any bookings. But Blue Lexus (who liked Jensen to fuck him and was prepared to pay for a room at a nearby Motel 6) usually cruised past Jensen and Chris’s spot on Saturday nights. If Jensen was there, he always picked him up. Blue Lexus was clean and polite (shy even) and it was easy money.

Jared had watched Jensen work last night, from his place in the coffee van. It hadn’t seemed to upset him. In fact, when Jensen had been dropped off by Blue Lexus, Jared had waved him over, holding up a coffee and a bag of donuts that he’d bought for him from the donut place. Jensen had strolled across for a chat on a couple more occasions when things had been quiet and it hadn’t seemed as if his maybe-would-be-boyfriend was pissed or upset that Jensen was working. Sam’s words, though, had him troubled.

“What do you mean?” he asked, but before Sam could answer, Jared came out of the bathroom. His face lit up when he saw Jensen and he hurried over, stopping just short of giving him a hug and then seeming unsure how to greet him. Jensen moved in smoothly and gave him a manly hug.

“You look great,” he said, admiring Jared’s figure-hugging blue jeans and tight, grey, knitted v-neck.

Jared ducked his head. “Thanks. Chad took me shopping after Church.”

Jensen twirled his finger and Jared spun around for him with a laugh.

“Very nice. You know, if that whole priest gig doesn’t work out, you could always try modeling.”

“Me?” Jared shook his head. “No. Not me. You’re the good looking one. Maybe you should try modeling?”

“I do model. Sometimes I even get to keep my clothes on,” he glanced at Sam. “Sorry. You probably didn’t need to hear that.”

She waved him off. “I’m actually delighted to hear that you’ve got some more mainstream earning options. Anyway. Where are you boys going tonight?”

Jensen looked at Jared who shrugged. “No real plans, I guess. Just. Get something to eat and then go to the movies.”

“What do you like to eat, Jensen?” Jeff came into the living room, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

“I’ll eat most things. But I’m always up for a good steak.”

“Awesome,” said Jared, “a man after my own heart.”

“You could try BOA Steakhouse. You might have a long wait if you don’t have a reservation, but the steaks are amazing.”

They ended up in a little Italian place across the road from Movie Town.  The interior walls were exposed brick and the place had arches and Roman columns inside that were decorated with fake vines, as well as lanterns hanging from the ceiling.  The lighting was a dim orange, giving the place a warm, romantic feel and Jensen started to feel a bit panicky. What was he doing here with someone like Jared? They should’ve gone to Astro Burger or Sizzler. This felt too much like a real date. The sort of date you’d go on with someone you’d take home to Mom and Dad; someone you were serious about. Jared couldn’t possibly be serious about someone like him. And what did Jensen know about serious relationships?

Jensen looked up when a large hand covered his.

“This place is perfect,” said Jared. “Stop panicking.”

“It is perfect,” Jensen agreed. “And you’re perfect,” he pulled his hand away and placed it in his lap. “But—”

 “Don’t,” said Jared. “You told me you like your life and you like who you are. So don’t go saying some crap about how you’re not good enough for me because of your job.”

A waiter brought them a bottle of water and two glasses and gave them each a menu. He rattled off the specials and told them they’d have to show him their ID if they wanted to order alcohol. Jared said he was fine with water and Jensen ordered a coke. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had refused to serve him alcohol. Then again, he was usually hanging out with much older people.

When the waiter had gone, Jensen turned to Jared. “Okay, look. Just because I like my life, doesn’t mean it’d be good for you to be involved in it. Sam said—”

Jared cut him off again. “You know what? We need to have this conversation; I know we do. But can we please have it when we’re not out on a date? Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

“Okay. Sure,” Jensen took his cigarettes and lighter out of the top pocket of his shirt. “I’m just gonna go outside and...” he waved the packet in Jared’s direction. “I won’t be long.”

When Jensen got back to the table his coke had arrived, and Jared looked relieved. Jensen could’ve kicked himself; Jared had thought that Jensen was going to walk out on their date and leave him sitting alone like an idiot.

He held his cigarettes up with an apologetic look. “Bad habit, right?” he slid back into his chair and put the cigarettes and lighter down on the table. “Danni’s always telling me I should quit.”

Jared smiled. “Yeah. Probably. I hear they’re bad for you.”  
“Alrighty,” Jensen rubbed his hands together. “Date talk. Tell me about yourself?” he paused. “Uh. What did you want to be when you grew up? You know, before you lied to a priest and got yourself press-ganged into a monastery.”

Jared rolled his eyes and laughed. “I’m seriously starting to wish I didn’t tell you about that! You’re never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Nope. C’mon. Spill. Childhood dream job.”

Jared told him that he’d wanted to be either a vet, because he loved animals so much, or an engineer, because he enjoyed the practical application of math.

“What about you?” he asked Jensen.

Jensen played with the straw in his coke. “Well, I’m a bit of a sports junkie,” he said. “I played baseball and lacrosse at school. And when I was a kid I guess I had some kind of an idea that I was gonna play for the Rangers. Sports medicine was kind of my fallback position, you know? If you can’t be a professional sportsman, then work with professional sportsmen, that kind of thing.”

“You’ll get there,” Jared said. “And you’re gonna be awesome.”

“Two more years. And then I’ll be able to afford to go to college. Just…leave all this behind and move on.” It felt good to share that with someone who wasn’t his PO. Chris and Danni knew, of course, that he wanted to go to college someday, but they seemed to view it as some kind of pipe dream. And he hadn’t told them about the part where he’d be leaving them in his dust and moving on without them. Which. Jensen licked at his lips. If he were honest with himself, he felt kind of bad about that part of the plan.

“But you’ll still keep in touch, right” Jared’s forehead was creased, “You wouldn’t just walk out on Chris and Danni.”

Seriously? Was Jared some kind of mind reader?

Jensen’s shoulders raised and lowered defensively. “I dunno. The plan was to get a fresh start. And Chris, the first day I met him, he told me,” Jensen gave his accent free rein: ‘ _there ain’t no such things as friends out here, kid, only people you can use and people who are gonna use you’.”_ Jensen resumed his normal voice. “All this crap now, I want it to be history. Gone. Forgotten. I don’t know if I can do that if Chris and Danni are still a part of my life.”

The waiter came across to take their order and Jensen realized that he’d barely looked at the menu. Jared ordered the meatballs and Italian sausage in creamy tomato sauce with a side serve of garlic bread and Jensen thought that sounded pretty good so he ordered it as well.

“Will you want to forget about me too?” Jared asked quietly once the waiter had gone.

“What? No. Of course not, Jare,” he sighed. “Look. I’m doin’ okay now. I can afford to pick and choose my clients. I can turn guys down. Or if a client wants to do something that I don’t wanna do, I can afford to say no. Getting paid a fuckton of money to have orgasms, sure as hell beats bussing tables for minimum wage. But I ain’t gonna lie; the first couple years were hard. I did a lot of stuff I didn’t want to do and I did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of. That’s the stuff I wanna forget. ”

Jared chewed at his bottom lip. “Chad said you know his PO, Tom?”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded. “He used to work for the Juvenile division. I got picked up for solicitation a time or six when I was under eighteen.  They prefer to put you in all these ‘diversion’ programs when you’re a kid, rather than record a conviction—try to straighten you out, so to speak.  I barely bothered to turn up for the programs, of course, and in the end I got picked up one time too many and they gave up and charged me. I was seventeen and they put me on probation until I turned eighteen. Tom was my PO,” Jensen took a sip of his coke. “The first time I met him, Tom says to me, ‘ _you know you won’t be young and pretty forever, Jensen’_.  So I batted my eyelashes at him and said, ‘ _so you think I’m pretty?’_ ” Jensen laughed briefly. “Tom just rolled his eyes and told me that I knew I was hot, but he didn’t do jailbait, and besides, his boyfriend would have his balls if he even thought about cheating. Up until then, the only other gay people I knew where either hookers or tricks or they were fucked up in some way. So he was, I dunno, kind of a revelation; young, successful, out and proud. He had his shit together and he was happy. Anyway, we met up a couple times a week and after a few weeks he tells me that he doesn’t get me; that I don’t do drugs and I’m obviously smart, so why am I hooking?”

“The money, obviously,” said Jared.

“The money,” Jensen nodded. “I didn’t finish high school; hell I never even started high school. How else am I gonna make this kind of money?”

The waiter brought their orders and conversation paused while he settled their plates and they started to eat.

“Mmmm. This is great. Good choice, Jare.”

Jared smiled around a mouthful of meatball, tomato sauce coating his teeth.

“Gross, man,” Jensen mock-shuddered.

Jared swallowed and took a drink of water. “You’ve got your GED now, though,” he said, picking up their previous conversation. “Isn’t there anything else you could do?”

“That would pull in at least two grand a week? No.”

Jared raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s some serious money you’re making. You could afford a much nicer apartment.”

Jensen shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I got my five year plan; every cent possible goes into my savings account.”

“And you’re not worried that a conviction as an adult could ruin your fresh start?”

Jensen shook his head. “I got that covered. A lot of Ellies got a vested interest in keeping me outta trouble.”

“Ellies?”

“Law Enforcement. LEs. Ellies. Cops. I got friends in high places too. ADAs, judges.”

They ate in silence for a while, although from the little crease in between Jared’s eyes, Jensen gathered that he was deep in thought about something.

“Jensen,” he said finally, as he mopped up the last of his creamy tomato with a piece of garlic bread. “I was talking to Chad yesterday and he said he was surprised that you didn’t work for an Escort Agency or at the very least, have your own website.”

Jensen helped himself to the last piece of garlic bread. “I’ve looked into both and I’ve got a couple major problems with both of those scenarios. First off, if I’m on the books of an agency or I’ve got a website, there’s a paper trail that leads to me. Right now, all the sex work is strictly cash only, and my tax return says I’m a model. I’ve got enough of a paper trail to photographers and companies that hire models for that to be credible,” Jensen finished off his meatballs and pushed the plate away. “Right now, hooking-wise, there’s nothing that can come back and bite me on the ass except for people’s memories and seeing as how my clients have a lot more to lose than I do if word gets out, I don’t see that as an issue. Secondly, I don’t like pimps, and an escort agency is just a glorified pimp. I can market myself just fine, I don’t need to pay someone else hundreds of dollars per trick to do it for me.”

Jared nodded. “Chad also wondered why you never got into porn movies. I guess it’d be the same answer; too much exposure that could come back to haunt you.”

Jensen sucked up the last of his coke and licked his lips. “Right. The nude modeling I mentioned earlier is for photos, and most of them are very tasteful. I doubt they’ll ever come to light because they’re in private collections, but I figure I can always spin them as something a bit risqué I did in my wild youth,” Jensen waggled his eyebrows. “Getting fucked on camera for all the world to see is a little harder to spin.”

Jared laughed. “Oh man. So much for saving the hard conversations for when we’re not out on a date! You know what we should do? We should ban work talk for the rest of the evening. And we should order dessert,” Jared’s eyes sparkled at the prospect.

“Okay,” Jensen waved a hand at the nearest waiter and asked for the dessert menu. “But if you have dessert, I’m not buying you candy at the cinema. You get high on sugar the way some people get high on crack.”

Jared’s pout was just adorable.

-X-

The end credits were rolling, the cinema’s lights were coming up and Jared was hiding his face with his hair because he didn’t want Jensen to see that he was crying.

Jensen bumped his shoulder. “Not bad,” he said.

Jared nodded his agreement, his face still hidden.

“I mean,” Jensen stretched, “I kinda thought there’d be more naked men, you know, running around in the arena, all oiled up, waving their swords around. And it was a bit long. But overall…not too bad. What did you think?”

Jared nodded again.

“Jared? Are you okay?”

Jared ran a hand over his nose and sniffed. He felt a hand cup his face and then Jensen raised his head, pulling him forward until they were face to face. A single tear ran down Jared’s cheek and he wiped at it with a laugh. “I know, right? I’m pathetic, crying over a movie.”

“Oh, baby,” Jensen pulled him into a hug. “Russell Crowe’s not that bad.”

Jared managed another laugh. “No. I thought he was good. It’s just…they murdered Maximus’s wife and son. And then they came to him at the end, to lead him into the afterlife.”

Jensen dropped a kiss on the top of Jared’s head. “I love how compassionate you are. C’mon,” he stood up and reached a hand down to Jared. “Will it make you feel better if I buy you a bag of Gummi Bears?”

Jared looked up at him, his eyes big and liquid. “It might.”

By the time they made it back to Jensen’s place, Jared’s sugar rush had subsided and he was feeling comfortably snoozy.  Chris wasn’t home, but they went to Jensen’s room anyway and cuddled on his bed. Jensen lay with his head on Jared’s shoulder and his arm slung over his waist, and Jared looked down at him and wondered what it would be like to lean down and kiss him. So far, Jensen had always initiated their kisses.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Jensen murmured.

“I was just wondering…”

“What?” Jensen looked up at him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hell, yes.”

Jared leaned down slowly and watched as Jensen’s pupils dilated. He touched their lips together softly and moaned when Jensen willingly parted his lips. He licked his way into Jensen’s mouth and then tentatively sucked at his tongue. Jensen whimpered and rolled onto his back, bringing Jared down on top of him. He brought his hands up to grasp at Jared’s hips and held him close while he thrust up against him. The friction was just perfect and Jared gasped and ground himself against Jensen, chasing more contact. Of course, that was when the guilt kicked in and suddenly Jared felt overwhelmed and scared. He shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be doing this at all, let alone with another guy. He whimpered and tore himself away from Jensen, his face stricken.  Jensen was spread out beneath him on the bed, his lips plump and wet, his eyes dark with desire and his hair mussed.  His slightly dazed look morphed into one of concern when he saw Jared’s anguish.

“Hey,” Jensen sat up and placed a comforting hand on Jared’s arm. “It’s okay. I’ve got no expectations, you know that, right? We’ll go however fast or slow you want to.”

“I want to,” Jared hung his head. “I want to so badly. But there’s just this voice in my head telling me that it’s wrong, wrong, wrong. Actually,” he frowned. “The voice sounds suspiciously like Brother Paul. And sometimes my old nanny. I don’t believe the voice, but it kind of makes me panic,” he bit at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry that I keep, you know, starting something with you that I can’t finish.”     

Jensen shook his head. “I’m perfectly capable of jerking off if I need to. Sex is nice. I like sex. And I hear it’s even better with someone you actually care about. But your dick is nowhere near as important to me as your heart,” he put his hand on Jared’s chest, his fingers spread. “We’ll do what you want to do, when you’re ready to do it. And I’m fine with that. Okay?”

Jared nodded. But he couldn’t help wondering how long Jensen would be prepared to wait. What if he were never ready? He lay back down with Jensen and after a while they began kissing again. It was soft and slow and satisfying and Jared really wished that he didn’t have to go home.


	11. Chapter Ten

# Chapter Ten

**B** ack at the monastery, one of the tasks that Jared had enjoyed was kitchen duty. Aside from providing an opportunity to nibble while he worked, he found food preparation relaxing. It certainly wasn’t relaxing at _Per Vias Rectas_. Peeling potatoes with Alona, Loretta and Kim meant a constant stream of banter, complete with wisecracks and shrieking laughter. At least it was keeping his mind off the fact that it was now Tuesday and he hadn’t seen or heard from Jensen since their date on Sunday. Jared knew that he could’ve called Jensen, but he felt kind of diffident about calling his cell. That was how his regular clients got hold of him.

“Hey, Jared,” Alona said. “Rob tells me you went out on a date on the weekend.”

Jared blushed and ducked his head, focusing on his potatoes. They were going to make a shepherd’s pie, or at least Loretta was, and there was a mountain of potatoes to peel.

“C’mon, Jare Bear,” Alona teased. “Spill the beans. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Alona pointed at him with her peeler. “Are you telling me that Rob lied to me?”

Jared shook his head. “Just…no lady,” he muttered, still avoiding Alona’s gaze.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense. If you went on a date, clearly—”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Loretta interrupted. “There are only two sexes. If he didn’t go on a date with a girl, he went on a date with a…you fill in the gap, Hon.”

Alona gasped. “You’re dating a guy?”

Jared kept his focus on his potatoes.

“Wow. That’s…that’s awkward…hey, no…no…put the spoon down Loretta, I didn’t mean it like that! He was gonna be a priest.”

“Oh. That is awkward. Jared? Jared, Honey?”

Jared glanced up, his face hot, expecting condemnation.

“Oh, Honey,” Loretta pulled him into a smothering embrace. “You just be who you are, you hear me? And you remember: those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” She patted him on the back and then pulled away, holding on to his arms for a moment longer. “You hear me, Hon?”

Jared nodded and she let go and turned back to her work.

Alona came up beside him and touched him gently on the arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to out you, if you didn’t want anyone to know yet.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course not,” Alona checked him with her hip. “If I was a few years younger I’d probably be devastated though, because you are incredibly handsome. So who’s the lucky man? What’s his name?”

“Jensen,”

“That’s me!”

Jared looked up to see Jensen standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He looked fantastic, wearing a pair of tailored black pants and a lime green button down shirt which really brought out the color of his eyes.

“Jensen!” he smiled, wiping his hands on a tea towel and hurrying forward.

“That’s Jensen?” Alona looked impressed. “He’s hot.”

“He’s a sex worker,” said Kim, her expression flat.

Jared froze half way to Jensen and then turned to face Kim with fear in his eyes.

Jensen smiled widely. “And you work for the DA’s office,” he turned to Alona, “And you…you’re wearing dog tags…so…military,” Alona lowered her head. “At one point,” Jensen watched her for clues. “But not anymore.” She shook her head. “Invalided out, right?”

“I got sick, resigned my commission.”

Jensen nodded. “And you,” he turned to Loretta, “are holding a big wooden spoon and look like you know how to use it. Senior manager of some sort?”

Loretta chuckled. “Grandmother.”

Jensen shrugged. “Same thing, right?”

Loretta laughed again. “I like him,” she said to Jared before turning back to Jensen. “I like you. You’re good with people, very insightful.”

Jensen winked at her. “Comes with the whole sex worker thing. So, if we’ve finished talking about our professions, do y’all mind if I borrow Jared for a minute?”

Jensen put his arm around a still frozen Jared and guided him out of the kitchen and over to a secluded area behind the bookshelves. “Are you okay?” he leaned back against a shelf, his feet crossed at the ankles.

Jared nodded. “Yeah. That was just. Admitting I was dating a guy was hard enough. Getting the hooker thing thrown in our faces was…I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“Is this the part where you dump me?” Jensen’s voice was tight.

“No!” Jared was indignant. “I said I wasn’t prepared for the comment, not that I was an asshole.”

Jensen gasped. “Jared! You swore!”

Jared rolled his eyes. “You look amazing, by the way,” he swallowed. “Work?”

“Photo shoot. For an _Adam and Eve_ catalogue.”

Jared’s brow furrowed. “Adam and Eve?”

“It’s an adult toy store. Well, a chain of them. Plus a website.”

Jared continued to look puzzled and then his eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh,” he said, ducking his head and coloring slightly.

Jensen chuckled. “It should be fun,” he said. “I’ll get to keep most of my clothes on and I’ll probably get some free samples. But that’s not why I came over. A bunch of us are going out tonight. Chris and Steve are playing a gig at _The Hole_ and I was wondering if you’d like to come? You’re not working are you?”

Jared shook his head. “I was on the coffee van last night,” he hesitated a moment and then said, “I didn’t see you out and about while I was working.”

“Yeah, I was tied up with a regular.”

Jared’s eyes went improbably large. “Tied up?”

Jensen smirked. “Not literally. Although that does happen sometimes.”

“Don’t tease me,” Jared huffed, smacking the back of Jensen’s head.

“I’m not. That was the truth.”

Jared blushed. He liked the idea of Jensen tied up and helpless beneath him just a little bit more than he probably should.

“Go do your modeling thing,” he said, waving his hands toward the door.

Jensen pouted. “Okay. But can I have a kiss before I go?”

Jared leaned down and kissed him and Jensen fisted his hands in Jared’s shirt and tugged him forward, so that their bodies pressed together.

A wolf whistle made them jerk apart, Jared flailing and turning wildly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Alona was leaning against a shelf watching them. “Don’t stop on my account,” she said. “That was hot.”

Jensen grinned. “My work here is done. I’ll pick you up at eight, Jare.”

Alona followed Jared back to the kitchen. “Jared and Jensen sitting in a tree,” she sang, “K-I-S—” Sam cleared her throat loudly from her place at the front desk and quelled Alona with a look.

-X-

When Jensen arrived to collect Jared, he was already waiting outside, leaning against the front door of the drop-in center wearing a pair of charcoal jeans, an olive green Henley and a grey and orange scarf.

“Wow,” Jensen came to an abrupt stop in order to fully appreciate the hotness of the man in front of him. “More new clothes?”

Jared nodded. “Chad made me buy heaps. I didn’t really have a lot of clothes and Chad said that I have to start dressing better, because gay guys have really good taste in clothes,” he frowned. “Which is kind of odd actually, because he chose everything.”

“Well he did good. You look amazing. I’m gonna be beating people off with a stick all night.”

Jared ducked his head and then looked up at Jensen with a shy smile. “Are we ready to roll?” he asked.

“Speaking of looking good,” Jared said as they made their way toward the bar, “how’d the modeling gig go?”

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I got freebies,” he said. “If you’re really good I might take you home later and let you play with them.”

Jared blushed fiercely and Jensen smirked.

Danneel, Gen and Sandy were already at the bar when they arrived and Jensen was surprised to see Chad sitting with them.

“Wassup, bitches?” said Chad, reaching up to shake hands with them both.

They squeezed around to the back of the table and slid onto the bench seat next to Danni and Gen. Sandy was sitting next to Chad, batting her eyelashes at him in a really obvious fashion. She gave Jared and Jensen a very frosty look when they sat down and it didn’t escape Jensen’s attention that Gen saw the look and glared at her. Jensen decided that he liked Gen.

“What are we drinking?” he asked cheerfully.

“Not Tequila,” Jared shuddered. “As bad as that tastes going down, it tastes even worse coming back up.”

Chad went and got a pitcher of beer and a tray of glasses. Jared was a lot more relaxed tonight than he’d been the last time they went out with the group, and Jensen hoped that after his last experience with alcohol, he wouldn’t have too much to drink. Jensen had some ideas in mind for later and he really didn’t want Jared to be too drunk to consent to them. He hadn’t been serious about letting Jared play with the freebies he’d been given; not entirely, anyway; but he was hoping there would be some kissing. And maybe a little bit more.

“Jensen!”   

Jensen looked up to see Tom and Mike hovering by their table.

“Hey,” he stood and shook his former PO’s hand, before introducing the group. “You came.”

Tom smiled easily. “Chris and Steve are good. They deserve to get somewhere with their music.”

Chad was hunched over, staring at his beer, but he glanced up when Mike lightly touched his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again,” Mike said. “I’ve missed you.”

Chad looked relieved. “It’s good to see you too. Can you please forgive me? You know I don’t mean to be an ass.”

Mike smiled and gave him a noogie and Chad stood up and hugged him.

Jensen glanced at Jared and saw that he was smiling softly so he invited Tom and Mike to join them, which they did.

Today was a good day, Jensen decided. He’d been well paid for some fun modeling work, he hadn’t had to suck anyone’s dick, he had a gorgeous man by his side and he was sitting with a group of friends waiting to watch his best friend play in his band. Jensen took a sip of his beer and settled back with a satisfied smile. Jared nudged his shoulder and then reached under the table and took ahold of his hand.

“Hello everyone!” Misha was standing by their table, beaming. He was wearing a pair of blue-and-white striped pants and a beaded purple top, and he was holding a large cocktail glass filled with something pink and decorated with a miniature umbrella. He squeezed onto the bench seat on the other side of Danneel and Gen, and Jared and Jensen were so squished that Jared ended up pulling Jensen onto his lap. Jensen took advantage of the opportunity to squirm surreptitiously against Jared’s crotch, teasing him at regular intervals until the younger man was rigid against him.

Chris and Steve came on stage and Jensen and his friends cheered wildly, clapping, whooping and whistling. Chris introduced them as Kane and then showed off for the audience, playing a complicated riff to get everyone in the mood. They played a variety of covers and original pieces, twenty minutes on, ten minutes off for a couple of hours. The crowd loved them and the atmosphere was electric. Jensen was hot and sticky and horny and Jared was like a furnace beneath him. He stood up, grabbed Jared’s hand and dragged him to the packed dance floor.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Jared shouted at him above the noise.

Jensen shook his head. He pulled Jared up against him and they moved in sync, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, Jensen writhing sensuously against the younger man, putting on a performance that was getting them a lot of attention.

Jensen was aware of all the eyes on him and he couldn’t help playing up to the audience, just a little.

“You have to stop,” Jared whispered in his ear, his voice husky. “Or I’m going to do something inappropriate.”

“Like what?”

“Like shove you against the nearest flat surface and…” Jared ran a hand over his face. “I’m really turned on right now, Jensen.”

A slow smile curved across Jensen’s face. “I’m up for it if you are,” he said.

Jared swallowed. “Maybe we should go home?”

Jensen’s face fell. “You want me to take you home?”

Jared shook his head. “Back to your place.”

Jensen liked the sound of that. They agreed that they couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to everyone though, so they made their way back to the table. Jared led the way, his hand entwined with Jensen’s and Jensen couldn’t help staring at his ass. When Jared stopped abruptly, Jensen smacked into the back of him.

“What—”

“Something’s wrong,” Jared said softly.

Tom, Mike and Chad were rigid, their eyes furious. Across from them sat Mark Pellegrino, with an arm around Danneel. Gen and Danni looked terrified and Danni was sitting strangely. Jensen met her eyes and tears began to run down her cheeks.  Jensen pushed in front of Jared and edged closer. Mark had a gun pressed against Danni’s side and was telling Gen that if she didn’t leave with him now, he’d shoot Danni in the stomach and she’d die a slow painful death; so much for Chris’s insistence that when Mark went after Gen he would be subtle.

-X-

Jared had never seen a handgun before. This one was silver, and kind of big, and why hadn’t anyone else noticed it? Where was security? Why weren’t people at other tables pointing and screaming and calling the police?

Danni was trembling and crying. Her face was streaked black with mascara and she was breathing in short gasps, as though she were afraid that each breath might be her last.

And Misha? Where was Misha?

Gen’s eyes were bleak. She raised her head when Jared met her eyes and he knew what she was going to do before she did it.

She nodded and stood up.

“Of course, baby,” she said to Mark. “I just needed some space. But you know me. I can never stay away from you for long. Just…let Danni go.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Danni’s gonna come with us. She kept my girl from me. She owes me a debt.”

“She owes you nothing,” Gen said. “I kept myself from you. And now I’m coming back.”

She walked slowly around the table, coming to a halt in front of Jared and Jensen, right next to where Mark was restraining Danni.

“C’mon, baby,” she said, holding a hand out to Mark.

Mark pushed Danni along the seat and onto her feet, the gun buried in her side.

“Mark, please,” said Jensen, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Don’t do this.”

“They owe me,’ Mark snarled. “But hey…if you want to make a deal, if you want to take Gen’s place in my stable and pay off Danni’s debt, that’s fine by me.”

“I—” Jensen began.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Jared refused to let him make the offer.

Mark smiled. “Well if it isn’t Jeff Morgan’s boy,” he leaned forward. “Nice moves on the dance floor, by the way,” he waved his gun hand expansively. “You know what we have here, ladies and gentlemen? We have a young man who is _never_ going to be a priest.”

Misha appeared out of nowhere like a cat without a bell and did something to Mark’s wrist that made him drop the gun. Jared didn’t even think, just lurched forward, balled his fist and let fly, catching Mark in the temple and dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

“Hubris,” said Misha, “and the need to play to the audience. Gets him every time. Nice punch, Jared.”

Jared was bent at the waist, cradling his throbbing hand. Gen threw herself at him and hugged him hard and Jensen gathered a sobbing Danni in his arms and held her close, stroking her hair.

Misha picked up the gun and took the clip out with a nonchalance that said he was a lot more used to handling weapons than Jared might’ve imagined. And then he hid behind Jared with a pained expression on his face when Tom got his cell phone out to call the police.

-X-

It was late by the time they finally got back to Jensen’s place. The police had called an ambulance when they got there because Mark was still unconscious. He came around before it arrived and swore viciously at Jared and Misha the whole time that the police were trying to read him his rights.

The paramedics decided to check Danni over first and tried to persuade her to go to hospital, but she refused. They looked at Jared’s hand next and advised him to ice it when he got home. Mark was finally escorted out to the ambulance in handcuffs and Jared thought they’d be able to go home, but they ended up sitting around the table with the police, drinking coffee and giving their statements.

They walked the girls home after that and saw them safely inside before going across to Jensen’s apartment. By the time he and Jensen walked through Jensen’s front door, Jared was buzzing with caffeine and adrenalin. They were alive. Their friends were all alive. They’d beat the bad guy and Jared had been a real-live action hero.

Jared grabbed Jensen’s arm and swung him around, shoving him back against the wall.

“Can I?” he leaned forward, his lips ghosting against Jensen’s and Jensen surged forward and kissed him. The kiss was open-mouthed and wet, their tongues dueling for dominance, their hands grasping and grabbing, and Jensen broke off their kiss to mouth at Jared’s jaw, sucking and biting as his hand travelled downwards to palm at the younger man’s swollen cock.

Jared groaned. “I…bedroom…We should…bedroom. Chris…Oh God…Chris might…come home…”

Jensen was on board with that plan. He pushed Jared away from him and then dragged him to the bedroom. Part of him wanted to push Jared onto the bed and climb on top of him, but another part—the smarter part—thought that might scare him off. So Jensen walked himself backwards to the bed, his body still plastered against Jared’s, and then fell down onto it, pulling Jared on top of him.

Jared shifted and wiggled and Jensen spread his legs so that Jared could settle between them. Their groins slotted together and Jensen groaned. He was desperate to thrust against Jared, but last time he did that it scared the younger man and made him back off. So Jensen tried to control his hips and settled instead for ravishing Jared’s mouth and squeezing his ass. Jared began to thrust against him, and skin, Jensen needed skin. He let his hands slide up under Jared’s Henley and palmed his broad back. Jared sat up and Jensen was afraid that he’d frightened him again. Jared’s eyes were glazed and his mouth was slack. He pulled his top off and then tugged at the hem of Jensen’s shirt. Jensen got with the program fast, lifting his back and ripping his shirt off over his head without undoing any of the buttons. He reached forward and unsnapped Jared’s jeans. “Can I?” he asked, his eyes darting to Jared’s. Jared nodded, biting his lip as Jensen pulled his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock, which, holy fuck. Long and thick and really fucking gorgeous, and okay, there might have to be a conversation about manscaping at some point, but Goddamn, Jensen was practically drooling at the thought of being allowed to put that in his mouth someday. Probably not today though, because Jared was starting to tense up again and that was not good. So. Jensen took hold of Jared with a skilled hand and began to stroke.

“Oh God,” Jared closed his eyes. “I need to…can I lie down?”

They maneuvered so that they were lying on their sides facing each other and Jensen eased his own pants down, one-handed, and then wrapped his fist around both of them.

“Can I?” Jared’s eyes were lit with wonder and bright with uncertainty. He reached forward tentatively and when Jensen nodded, his hand joined Jensen’s. He buried his face in Jensen’s neck and panted as he touched himself, touched Jensen, stroking them both in unison, their cocks sliding together, hot, and slippery now with pre-cum, though whether it was his own or Jensen’s, Jared couldn’t tell. The pressure built and built and Jared mouthed at Jensen’s neck and moaned. He needed…Oh God…he didn’t even know. He felt Jensen’s other hand grasp his ass and squeeze, the action pulling his ass cheeks ever so slightly apart and causing one of Jensen’s fingers to trail lightly against his opening. Jared lost it, writhing and gasping and shooting up between them, his cum splashing against his ribs. He felt Jensen tense and then there was another splash of wet against him, and this sex business was all rather messy, and should they have worn condoms? No-one’s penis had gone into anyone, Jared blushed remembering Jeff’s lecture, but bodily fluids were most definitely flying around. And…Jared’s train of thought was cut off when Jensen pulled him in for a kiss.

“That was awesome,” Jensen looked blissed out and sated and Jared couldn’t quite believe that he’d caused the more experienced man to look like that.

Jensen cleaned them both up with a tee-shirt that had been lying on the floor and they took their jeans off and snuggled together under the quilt.

“So that happened,” Jensen said after a while. “Are you okay?”

Jared nodded. “Yeah. I’m good,” he propped himself up on his elbow and chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes soft. “But I feel a bit…guilty. Like I did something that I shouldn’t have done. And I know… _intellectually_ …I know that’s crap. But…” he gave a half shrug.

“But you’ve been fucked up by years of Christian indoctrination.”

Jared frowned. “Yeah. I guess.”

Jensen met Jared’s gaze with fierce green eyes. “You’ve gotta stop believing all their bullshit about gay sex being a sin or you’re gonna end up hating yourself.”

“I don’t believe it anymore,” Jared began, but Jensen shook his head. He reached out and put a hand on Jared’s chest.  “In here. You’ve gotta really believe it in here. You’ve got _nothing_ to feel guilty about and you’ve gotta make that stone one for building a new life. Right now, you should just feel awesome.”

 Jared’s dimples made an appearance. “I do feel awesome,” he put his hand over Jensen’s and squeezed it.  “I know I’m gay, Jensen.  And I’m not gonna hate myself for it, I promise. But it’s gonna take me some time to...to not automatically feel guilty whenever we...”

“You’ve gotta get de-programmed.” Jensen said cynically.

Jared sighed. “I wasn’t in a cult.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow and made a soft, skeptical noise, but didn’t argue.

“One thing I do know,” Jared continued after a brief silence, “I want to do that again sometime. And maybe…maybe even do more.”

Jensen kissed him gently. “I definitely wanna do it again,” he said. “And more…yeah. When you’re ready.”

Jared smiled shyly. “Also? Mark was right. I’m never gonna be a priest.”

They lay quietly for a while, just listening to each other’s heartbeats, and then Jensen said, “I’m really glad about the priest thing. Would’ve been such a waste.”

Jared laughed softly, “I wanted it, you know. But I think my path lies someplace else,” he paused and squeezed Jensen’s hand again. “So what do I do now?”

Jensen smiled against his cheek.  “Whatever you want.”


	12. Epilogue

# Epilogue

**J** eff couldn’t sleep. Jared had phoned to tell him what had happened at the bar and to say that he would be spending the night at Jensen’s place. Jeff was proud of the kid—in so many ways—but the thing with Jensen… By God, Jeff hoped he knew what he was doing. Jared was a decent young man, kind and good-hearted and both he and Sam were enjoying having him in their home. In many ways, he was becoming the child they’d never had.

Sam had already gone to bed, but Jeff was up going over brochure copy. One in the morning probably wasn’t the best time for it, he was probably too tired to see even the most obvious of mistakes, but he was restless. Worried. Jeff rubbed a hand over his brow. So this was what parenthood was like. He’d often wondered.

When the phone rang he assumed it would be Jared and he feared the worst.

“Jeff?” It was Father Michael from the monastery.

This couldn’t be good. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Father?”

“I do. But this is rather urgent.”

Jeff grunted. Of course it was. He knew Michael wouldn’t have called this late without a damn good reason.

“Have you seen the news?” Michael said.

“What news?” Jeff really wished Michael would just tell him what was going on.

“About Thomas Gibson Garcia.”

“The movie star?” Jeff wasn’t sure what this had to do with him, or the Center, or why it was urgent. The actor in question was an outspoken financial supporter of Opus Dei, his donations sizeable enough to warrant him a meeting with the Pope, but there were times when the Catholic Church could really do without the publicity he generated. “Was he caught on camera having another one of his insane rants? What was it this time? His circumspect support for anti-abortion violence? Or another homophobic tirade?”

“Worse,” Father Michael sounded grim. “He was arrested in a public restroom with his penis down the throat of a fourteen-year-old prostitute. He swears by almighty God that he thought she was over eighteen, but he’s looking at serious charges. And Catherine is leaving him and taking their children with her.”

 “Not the first A-lister divorce in this town,” Jeff said, still unsure why they were talking about this.  

Father Michael sighed audibly. “Given Thomas’s well-publicized association with the Catholic Church, to the public this won’t just be another celebrity divorce scandal, it will link the Catholic Church, however tenuously, with yet another case of child sex abuse.”

Jeff harrumphed. He still didn’t see why this was an emergency for the Center, unless the child involved was hurt and in need of their assistance.

“The girl,” Jeff began, but Father Michael cut him off.

“I’m beginning to suspect that you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

Father Michael sighed. “You have no idea why I’ve called you about this, do you?”

Jeff’s stomach dropped ominously. He had a nasty feeling that he really wasn’t going to like this.

“Thomas Gibson Garcia and Catherine J Monaghan,” Father Michael paused. “They’re Jared’s parents, Jeff.”

\--

The End (for now) 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to 9Tiptoes— alpha reader, beta reader, friend and confidante, who always challenges me to improve my writing, and without whom this story would be full of strange Australian words that no one would understand. As per usual, I tinkered…a lot…after the final beta read. Any remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> I would also like to say a huge thank you to M14Mouse, who graciously stepped up to the plate when my original artist went MIA. (see Mouse's work here http://m14mouse.livejournal.com/86357.html) I love everything she’s created for this story and she was so very enthusiastic, dedicated and easy to work with.
> 
> And finally: my everlasting admiration and gratitude to Wendy and Thehighwaywoman. Without their hard work and commitment to running the fabulous SPN_J2 big bang challenge, our fandom would be a poorer place.
> 
> I apologise to West Hollywood natives for any geographical inaccuracies -- there is only so much you can do with Google Earth! Let's just say that I have presented an 'AU' version of the town, reconfigured as needed to suit the demands of the plot.
> 
> I did a lot of research for this story—and I shudder to think what my internet provider thinks I get up to, given my search history! That aside, a shout out must go to Matthew Vines, on whom the author of the fictitious book The Rainbow Cross is loosely based. If you’re interested, you can learn more about his work here: http://www.matthewvines.com/
> 
> The statistics on LGBT youth homelessness that Jeff quotes to Jared in chapter eight come from this study: http://www.thetaskforce.org/downloads/reports/reports/HomelessYouth.pdf


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